OUR. 
NATUPSKI 
NEIGHBORS 


BY  EDITH 
MINITER 


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OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 


OUR 
NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 


BY 

EDITH  MINITER 


NEW  YORK 

HENRY   HOLT  AND   COMPANY 
1916 


Copyright,  191 6 

BY 

HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 


Published  October,  1916 


THE    CUINN    4    BOOEN    CO.    PRESS 


<Eo 

J.  E.  T.  D. 

Who  Made  These  Stories  Possible 


2137271  • 


CONTENTS 

SPARROWS,  GYPSY  MOTHS  AND  SUCH 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I    Mrs.  Natupski 3 

II    In  Civilization's  Service 18 

III  Abner's  Try 39 

IV  Two  Old  Birds  on  One  Bough 63 

V  Letting  Natupski  Alone 89 

VI    "  Hi-jinks  "  in  West  Holly 103 

VII    Emancipation  for  Onei I3I 

VIII    A  Snoot  at  the  Law 143 

THE  SECOND  GENERATION 

I    Pots  and  Kettles 163 

II    Everybody's  Daughter  and  My  Son 182 

III  Miss  Annie  S.  Natupski 204 

IV  Such  a  Chance 220 

V  Modest  Shop  Windows 237 

VI    A  'Merican  Marriage 254 

VII    Lather  and  Flowers .       .  276 

VIII    Whence  Come  These  Blooms? 293 

IX    Old  Bills  to  Pay 310 

X    Lords  of  the  Land 327 


SPARROWS,  GYPSY  MOTHS 
AND  SUCH 


MRS.  NATUPSKI 

Mrs.  Natupski  looked  skyward  from  a  narrow  street 
in  a  great  European  seaport.  She  counted  the  windows. 
Three — perhaps  four.  She  walked  up  three  flights  of 
stairs  to  reach  her  room,  but  it  was  difficult  to  under- 
stand if  that  made  the  number  of  windows,  counting 
from  the  pavement,  three  or  four.  Where  she  had  come 
from  there  had  been  no  tall  buildings,  like  this  one  near 
the  docks.  She  must  not  make  a  mistake.  If  four  there 
would  have  to  be  a  longer  rope.  Still,  it  was  foolish  to 
waste  money  on  one  too  long.  Better  pay  the  landlord 
and  be  done  with  it. 

Wrapping  her  skirt  about  the  ring  of  bread  which 
hung  over  her  arm,  she  pulled  herself  up  the  three  flights. 
The  room  she  entered  was  a  mere  crevice  among  many 
which  the  house  held  for  the  accommodation  of  those 
seeking  temporary  shelter  before  sailing.  A  bed  was  in 
it,  a  chair  and  a  child.  On  the  wall  a  black  and  red 
poster  announced  sailings  of  the  Hamburg-American 
line.  Mrs.  Natupski  could  not  read  this,  but  the  dates 
were  not  only  impressed  on  her  mind — those  already 
passed  had  been  marked  in  pencil.  "  Kronprincessin 
Caecilie  "  was  two  weeks  gone.  It  was  the  boat  with 
which  her  train  had  connected — the  last  of  the  trains 
which  had  brought  her  from  Poland. 

She  had  been  all  impatience  to  leave  Poland.    Hardly 

3 


4  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

could  she  attend  to  the  vociferous  farewells  of  relatives, 
who  gathered  in  numbers  the  day  she  left  her  own  town. 
They  knew  well  enough  she  did  not  hear,  but  they  had 
forgiven — she  had  ears  only  for  the  call  across  the  sea. 
The  strained  look  of  the  listener  never  left  her  eyes  even 
when  she  automatically  answered  the  questions  of 
wonder-crazed  Stanislarni,  the  four-year-old  now 
balanced  upon  his  stomach  and  the  window-sill,  trying 
to  catch  a  view  of  life  in  the  alley  from  which  his 
mother  had  just  come. 

She  snatched  his  legs  in  a  quick  frenzy  which  seemed 
more  anger  than  fear,  gave  him  a  couple  of  blows  that 
would  have  felled  an  adult  carefully  reared;  then  fold- 
ing him  in  her  arms  sat  and  choked  him  with  mother  love. 
It  was  a  hot  afternoon.  The  still  air  held  sounds  as  in 
a  solution — the  squalling  of  lots  of  babies,  gruff  voices 
of  men  answering  the  shrill  complaints  of  women,  in 
many  dialects;  street  cries  from  a  neighboring  square. 

"  Hell "  cried  Mrs.  Natupski,  darting  her  beady 

eyes  upon  the  child,  who  seemed  drowsing. 

He  straightened  his  little  back,  and  lisped  the  word 
after  her.    "  'L!  "    His  mother  shook  him. 

"  Mowie  ze  nie!    Hell " 

His  second  attempt  was  better.  She  went  on,  "  O !  " 
His  baby  mouth  pursed  into  a  round,  and  Mrs.  Natupski 
swooped  toward  him  as  if  to  give  reward  in  the  form  of 
a  kiss,  then  as  suddenly  desisted,  and  broke  into  Polish 
speech.  The  child  nodded,  and  made  the  best  he  could  of 
the  greeting  he  was  being  taught. 

"  Hell-o,  pa-pa !  "  It  sounded  like  the  work  of  a  badly 
worn  phonograph  record.  Mrs.  Natupski  thought  it  was 
pretty  good.     She  hushed  him  when  a  step  came  outside 


MRS.  NATUPSKI  5 

the  door,  however,  but  it  was  not  the  landlord.  She 
might  save  the  seven  marks  yet. 

The  child  said  he  was  hungry  and  she  gave  him  some 
of  the  bread.  She  would  eat  none  until  later.  That 
way  supper  made  breakfast. 

They  would  be  surprised,  those  relations  in  Poland,  if 
they  could  know  she  had  not  gone  in  the  first  boat.  Nor 
yet  in  the  second.  Perhaps  she  would  not  go  in  the 
"  Augusta  Victoria,"  which  sailed  next.  She  crossed  her- 
self, then  tumbled  Stanislarni  into  bed  without  any  pre- 
liminary undressing,  and  proceeded  to  count  her  money. 
It  was  tied  into  strange  parts  of  her  clothing,  and  she 
kept  each  lot  separate,  in  a  little  pile  on  the  chair.  This 
on  the  right  Kani  had  sent  at  Christmas.  The  sum  was 
not  large.  It  came  in  the  letter  where  he  had  said  Lowell 
in  America  was  a  lonely  place  and  he  wanted  to  see  his 
little  Stanislarni.  The  other  sum,  much  larger,  had  come 
from  the  dealer  who  sold  for  her  all  she  had  except  the 
clothing  she  and  Stanislarni  were  wearing,  and  the  things 
in  the  canvas  extension  case  under  the  bed. 

She  had  feared  it  might  be  necessary  to  wait  in  this 
city;  the  farewell  gift  of  Uncle  Vladimir  to  Stanislarni 
was  to  pay  for  that.  As  it  had  paid,  those  coins  were 
now  missing.  She  had  not  thought  it  would  be  so  long 
a  wait — a  week  and  then  more  weeks.  How  Wardi  had 
cried  when  she  learned  Mrs.  Natupski  was  not  going  on 
the  "  Kronprincessin  Caecilie."  Wardi  was  a  girl  she  had 
made  friends  with  on  the  train,  who  bought  sweet  things 
for  Stanislarni.  Wardi  had  an  incredible  sum  sewed 
into  the  top  of  her  stocking  leg,  and  longed  to  spend  it, 
because,  as  she  explained,  her  man  had  done  well  in 
America,  and  would  be  at  that  place  called  Ellis  Island 


6  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

with  much  more.  Some  did  pick  up  coins  in  the  Ameri- 
can streets,  it  seemed,  though  poor  Kani  was  not  one. 

Stanislarni  was  lying  on  his  back,  his  mouth  wide  open 
in  a  manner  that  would  raise  suspicion  of  adenoids  once 
he  was  adopted  into  his  future  country.  Mrs.  Natupski 
thought  she  too  would  go  to  bed,  and  rose  from  the 
floor,  where  she  had  been  squatting  worshiping  the 
money  in  the  chair.  Straightening  up,  a  pang  shot 
through  her.  She  could  barely  repress  a  scream.  Then 
it  passed,  and  she  realized  the  time  had  come  to  con- 
tinue her  journey.  Only  she  had  to  work  carefully,  and 
save  the  seven  marks — ticket  agents  would  not  sell  a 
pfennig  short !  She  took  a  coil  of  rope  from  under  her 
bolster  and  fastened  it  beneath  Stanislarni's  armpits, 
shamelessly  padding  the  child  with  sheets  and  blankets. 
The  extension  case  she  fastened  some  distance  from  the 
end  of  the  rope,  with  a  double  loop.  And  then,  having 
frightened  the  little  one  into  probable  silence  by  an  ac- 
count of  the  fearful  vengeances  awaiting  him  should 
he  make  the  slightest  noise,  she  pushed  him  from  the 
window,  as  a  mother  bird  shoves  her  young  from  the 
nest. 

Was  the  rope  long  enough?  The  time  came  when 
there  was  some  slack.  Suppose  he  had  stopped  upon  a 
lower  window  ledge,  should  fall  to  the  street  and  be 
killed  ?  Another  pang !  She  tied  the  rope  to  the  foot  of 
the  bed,  and  went  out,  locking  the  door.  The  landlord, 
whom  she  met  in  the  lower  hall,  kept  on  smoking  his 
porcelain  pipe  serenely.  He  did  not  mind  her  coming  and 
going,  since  she  always  left  her  child  in  the  room.  When 
she  took  the  boy  would  be  time  to  ask  if  that  remittance 
had  arrived.    At  the  supper  table  he  enjoyed  his  pumper- 


MRS.  NATUPSKI  7 

nickel  and  beer,  and  did  not  know  he  had  lost  seven 
marks. 

Stanislarni  and  the  extension  case  were  within  reach, 
in  the  alley.  Five  minutes  later  Mrs.  Natupski  was  lay- 
ing down  the  money  for  a  third-class  passage  to  New 
York.  The  agent  saw  she  was  pale,  and,  in  her  own 
tongue,  bade  her  cheer  up,  it  would  soon  be  over.  He 
spoke  as  of  an  ordeal,  but  to  Mrs.  Natupski  all  woe  was 
passed.  She  had  planned  wisely,  and  Stanislarni's  little 
brother  would  be  born  in  the  hospital  of  the  big  ship, 
where  were  comforts  of  which  Mrs.  Natupski  had  heard, 
but  which  she  yet  dimly  comprehended  :  good  food — well, 
she  could  understand  that — midwives  in  starched  clothes 
— men  doctors — white  beds;  and  no  need  to  move  for  a 
fortnight.  She  had  got  up  and  cooked  Kani's  supper 
two  hours  after  Stanislarni's  birth.  And  nothing  to  pay 
— nothing  at  all !    It  was  certainly  worth  the  waiting. 

They  etherized  her,  for  no  luxuries  are  denied  those 
who  buy  a  $15  passage  to  the  land  of  the  free.  Her  last 
thought  was  of  Kani.  He  would  be  no  longer  lonesome 
in  that  Lowell  of  America.  Nor  poor,  even  if  he  had 
missed  finding  money  as  did  Wardi's  man.  The  hundred 
dollars  with  which  one  bribed  the  great  country  was,  she 
knew,  returned.  The  sum  was  just  as  you  gave  it,  and 
Kani  should  have  it  all;  except,  of  course,  what  was 
needed  to  take  one  to  that — Lowell — in — America 

In  the  meantime,  Kani  had  left  Lowell  and  had  gone 
first  to  Mifflin  Grove,  then  to  West  Holly,  a  small  town 
fifteen  miles  distant.  He  took  Olka  with  him.  He  had 
married  her  at  New  Year,  perhaps  because  the  weather 
was  cold,  probably  in  order  to  have  a  woman  when  he 


8  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

should  secure  that  farm  which  was  the  goal  of  his  am- 
bition. Kani  had  not  forgotten  Marinki  in  Poland.  He 
had  felt  the  truth  when  he  wrote  about  wanting  to  see  his 
little  Stanislarni.  At  Christmas  time  he  even  made  in- 
quiries as  to  the  cost  of  bringing  over  a  woman  and  two 
children.  He  knew  there  would  be  two  by  the  following 
summer. 

Yes,  he  would  have  liked  to  see  Marinki  and  Stanis- 
larni— especially  Stanislarni.  But  to  spend  all  that 
money !  It  would  mean  putting  off  buying  the  farm  for 
a  whole  year.  It  would  be  foolish.  So  he  took  Olka 
for  wife,  and  with  Olka  her  savings.  Combined  with 
his  own,  which  might  otherwise  have  been  squandered  in 
steamship  tickets,  a  first  payment  was  made  on  the  Jud- 
son  Buckland  place,  in  West  Holly. 

Mrs.  Buckland  had  been  ten  years  trying  to  sell  her 
rickety  house  and  one  hundred  barren  acres.  Kani 
thought  he  was  shrewd  to  buy  from  a  woman,  who 
would,  of  course,  be  easy  to  cheat.  He  could  scarcely  be- 
lieve in  his  own  fortune  when  the  place  became  his. 
And  Mrs.  Buckland  pinched  herself  as  she  drove  from 
the  lawyer's  with  two  hundred  dollars  cash  and  a  mort- 
gage note.  Those  Polanders  were  sure  great  workers, 
she  reflected. 

She  would  get  her  interest  quarterly,  even  if  she  oc- 
casionally took  a  crop  for  it. 

One  October  evening,  three  months  after  Mrs. 
Natupski  so  skilfully  took  ship  from  Europe,  Kani 
Natupski  and  his  Olka  sat  gloating  on  the  steps  of  their 
new  home,  which  was  a  very  old  house,  weather-beaten 
by  half  a  century  of  New  England  winters,  warped  by  an 
equal  number  of  draughty  summers.    The  windows  rat- 


MRS.  NATUPSKI  9 

tied,  the  doors  sagged,  the  chimney  needed  topping  off, 
there  were  huge  wasps'  nests  under  the  front  gable,  squir- 
rels had  gnawed  great  holes  in  the  roof,  and  rats  ran 
everywhere.    Kani  thought  it  perfection. 

Night  was  near  at  hand,  that  was  why  he  was  not 
working.  By  and  by  he  might  light  the  lantern  and  go 
out  to  the  barn,  where  he  would  give  the  horse  a  beating 
and  several  quarts  too  much  grain.  This  excessive 
generosity,  in  addition  to  corn  on  the  ear,  would  ulti- 
mately founder  a  fine  animal,  but  Kani  was  blissfully 
ignorant  of  the  assured  result.  He  must  feed  the  cow, 
too;  the  one  from  which  Mr.  Bowes  had  offered  to  buy 
future  calves.  Mr.  Bowes  was  in  the  veal-producing 
line,  and  a  great  aid  to  other  farmers  who  supplied 
creamery  milk.    Natupski  would  none  of  him. 

"  No  calf,"  he  had  replied  with  great  decision  to  the 
querist  on  the  other  side  of  the  barb  wire.  "  My  cow 
have  no  calf.  Can't  stop  have  calf.  Me  need  milk.  All 
time." 

Why  did  Mr.  Bowes  laugh? 

Kani  could  hear  the  cow  lowing  expectantly  while  he 
took  the  ragged  sweater  from  Olka's  shoulders  and 
wrapped  it  about  his  own.  Cousin  Nick  Kovinski,  who 
sat  with  them,  frowned,  but  Kani  did  not  mean  a  cruelty. 
He  was  dispassionately  considering  the  greatest  good. 
The  air  had  a  tang.  It  would  be  very  bad  if  he,  the  man 
and  the  worker,  should  take  a  chill  and  be  sick.  Cousin 
Nicholas  was  young,  besides  his  was  the  disadvantage 
of  American  birth.  When  he  should  marry  Olka's  sister 
and  buy  a  farm  he  would  doubtless  be  glad  to  assume 
the  good  Polish  way  of  woman  ruling.  He  had  spoken 
already  of  a  liking  for  the  place  next  door,  whence  came 


io  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

those  whiffs  of  vinegar  and  spices  that  stood  for  Nancy 
Slocumb's  piccalil. 

The  Natupskis  had  a  good  smell  of  their  own,  too. 
They  were  burning  brush.  Kani  grinned  when  he  looked 
at  the  blazing  mass,  from  which  a  slender  gray  smoke 
went  heavenward,  after  curling  about  the  topmost  twigs, 
as  if  loath  to  leave.  He  was  thinking  of  the  fine  after- 
noon's work  he  had  done,  grubbing  up  that  topmost  bush. 
It  grew  in  a  corner  of  the  homelot,  of  a  tallness  to  his 
shoulder  when  he  stood  on  the  wall,  and  it  had  little  red 
leaves  all  over  it.  Just  meant  to  be  pretty,  of  course,  it 
would  have  to  go.  He  had  denuded  the  house  of  the 
woodbine  and  the  wistaria  which  softened  its  ugly  angles, 
and  made  short  work  of  the  syringas  and  lilacs  by  the 
door. 

He  knew  what  trouble  they  caused,  in  the  spring;  he 
had  seen  it  on  his  first  trip  of  inspection,  made  the  previ- 
ous May.  Folks  came  along  and  broke  off  branches  and 
said,  "  Pretty,  pretty."  He  didn't  want  them  to  say 
"  Pretty,  pretty,"  in  front  of  his  house.  He  wanted 
them  to  say,  "  Natupski,  he  rich.  Natupski,  big  farm, 
plenty  children." 

Here  was  the  farm,  the  children  were  just  beginning. 
He  cast  a  glance  of  something  remotely  related  to  affec- 
tion at  little  'Statia,  two  weeks  old,  who  lay  on  Olka's 
knee.  Then  he  began  to  tell  about  grubbing  up  the 
red-leaved  bush. 

Oh,  how  he  had  worked,  with  crowbar  and  spade  and 
his  bare  hands.  Proudly  he  exhibited  many  wounds. 
Mr.  Slocumb  and  his  man  had  tried  to  keep  him  from 
working,  too.  They  had  talked  very  fast  and  loud,  using 
many  English  words  which  he  did  not  know.     Only  he 


MRS.  NATUPSKI  n 

clid  know  they  begged  him  not  to  destroy  the  bush.  For 
some  reason  they  did  not  want  to  see  it  go.  By  and  by 
Mr.  Slocumb  himself  had  yelled  very  loud  and  jumped 
right  over  the  barb  wire,  and  grabbed  the  spade.  But 
he,  Natupski,  got  the  better  of  the  old  fellow.  With  a 
kick  he  did  it.  And  displayed  two  rows  of  handsome 
white  teeth  as  he  grinned  thereat.  Oh,  if  he  kept  on  as 
he  began,  and  had  many  children  to  help  him,  he  would 
show  those  people  a  fine  farm  and  a  rich  farmer. 

He  had  no  suspicion  it  was  the  Judson  Buckland  crack 
swamp  blueberry  bush  he  had  destroyed — the  one  which 
yielded  bushels  of  prime  salable  berries  every  summer. 
Blueberries  he  had  not  known  in  Poland.  He  was  in 
America  to  get  rich,  that  seemed  necessary,  but  he  had 
no  idea  of  accepting  American  advice. 

The  holocaust  of  values  continued,  and  Kani,  rising, 
tucked  his  shirt  into  the  waistband  of  his  trousers,  for 
one  had  to  make  that  much  concession  to  American  prej- 
udice when  crossing  the  road,  and  started  toward  the 
barn.  He  turned  and  reminded  Olka  that  she  had  yet  to 
pursue  and  shut  up  the  chickens.  Half  a  hundred  of 
them,  practically  nude  of  feathers,  were  squawking  al- 
ways about  the  premises,  in  the  house  as  likely  as  not, 
and  helping  themselves  from  the  barrels  of  stale  bread 
which  served  as  chief  article  of  food  alike  for  family  and 
poultry.  Supplemented  by  astringent  cider  it  kept  the 
breath  of  life  in  Kani,  and  had  enabled  Olka  to  nourish 
'Statia,  but  it  would  not  put  plumage  on  the  chickens. 
Kani  was  untroubled  by  the  fact,  evident  to  all  the 
neighborhood  not  named  Natupski,  that  the  little  things 
would  turn  up  their  toes  and  peep  their  last  peep  at  the 
first  real  sharp  weather. 


12  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

The  woman  gained  her  feet  and  began  to  call  "  Cheek, 
cheek,"  then  stopped  to  gaze  at  another  woman  who  was 
standing  in  front  of  the  house.  She  was  not  very  young- 
looking,  this  other  woman,  but  perhaps  this  was  because 
her  hair  was  unkempt,  and  her  eyes  sunken  in  a  sallow 
face.  She  wore  a  gay  and  filthy  costume  which  Olka, 
at  the  door,  knew  was  made  in  Poland.  Olka  herself 
had  American  clothes — a  39-cent  kimono  above  a 
crinkled  seersucker  petticoat;  and  she  pulled  her  hair 
over  a  wire  roll  with  rhinestone-set  side  combs.  She 
observed  with  scorn  the  full  skirt  of  chocolate  woolen, 
the  little  fringed  shawl  embroidered  in  a  floral  design 
perhaps  Polish — certainly  America  had  no  such  green 
roses  and  purple  foliage — the  clumsy  jewelry  and  silk 
head  scarf.  The  stranger  carried  on  one  hip  a  solemn- 
eyed  infant,  and  on  the  other  hip  balanced  a  gray  ex- 
tension case,  extended  to  its  full  extent.  By  her  side 
walked  a  boy.  His  shoes  were  sheathed  in  copper,  his 
flapping  trousers  were  of  cotton  stuff,  turned  dirt  color, 
and  above  them  was  a  tattered  apron.  He  too  bore  a 
burden,  a  small  bundle,  wrapped  in  black  oilcloth. 

The  newcomer  leaned  against  the  fence,  resting  the 
child  and  the  extension  case  alternately,  as  if  unable  to 
decide  which  gave  greater  relief. 

Kani  had  paused  in  the  road  and  was  still  fumbling  at 
his  shirt.  A  mere  lad  he  seemed,  for  he  was  slight  of 
figure,  blonde,  and  with  the  ingenuous,  direct  gaze  of 
one  whose  aims  in  life  were  simple. 

The  foreign-looking  woman  pushed  the  older  child 
with  her  foot,  exhibiting  a  Congress  gaiter  having  its 
elastic  gores  worn  threadbare.  Thus  reminded,  the  lad 
repeated  a  lesson  he  had  been  weary  months  learning. 


MRS.  NATUPSKI  13 

"  Hell-o,  pa-pa !  "  he  cried,  mechanically.  And  as  the 
man  only  continued  to  stare,  he  repeated,  "  Hell-o, 
pa-pa ! " 

Kani  struck  his  hands  to  his  forehead. 

"God!  God!"  he  shouted. 

It  was  not  bewilderment  at  the  presence  of  the  two 
women  he  had  married,  though  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Slocumb 
would  have  thought  so.  It  was  sheer  amazement  at  the 
fact  that  little  Stanislarni  should  be  capable  of  coming 
to  America  and  addressing  him  in  the  English  tongue. 

Still,  he  was  in  a  fix,  and  after  a  few  moments  realized 
the  fact.  Marinki,  by  the  road,  and  Olka,  at  the  door — 
he  must  now  lose  one  or  the  other.  He  did  not  feel  in 
any  way  to  blame  for  the  way  things  had  turned  out; 
only  Marinki  was  to  blame.  He  could  not  send  her 
money  to  come  to  America  because  he  was  using  his 
money  to  buy  the  farm.  With  a  farm  there  must  be  a 
woman,  and  if  your  Polish  wife  stops  in  Poland  you  take 
one  near  at  hand.  But  those  two  beautiful  children,  and 
Stanislarni  a  big  boy !  Olka  had  only  had  a  girl.  Kani, 
standing  in  the  road,  third  in  the  immortal  triangle, 
mentally  put  the  child  to  work  that  very  instant. 

"  Up,  Stanislarni,  it  is  almost  morning.  Quick,  to 
the  barn,  you  carrying  one  pail  and  I  three;  see,  you 
save  me  a  trip  back  that  way.  Now,  Stanislarni,  up 
through  the  little  hole  in  the  platform;  you  are  small  and 
can  go  there,  so  I  need  not  climb  the  ladder.  Throw 
down  hay,  much  hay,  oh,  much  more  than  that.  Now 
run  with  me  to  the  bread  bin,  take  this  and  throw  to  the 
chickens — ah,  you  like  that.  You  laugh  to  see  them  all 
come  running.  I  must  milk  now,  and  you  can  carry  in 
chips  for  the  fire;  and  by  and  by  you  shall  go  to  the 


i4  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

field  with  me,  and  after  I  have  stuck  the  fork  into  the 
hill  of  potatoes  you  shall  creep  up  and  put  them  into  the 
basket.  I  will  teach  you  to  follow  the  cows,  too,  and 
wave  a  stick,  you  can  run  after  them,  and  be  just  as 
much  use  as  that  big  dog  the  folks  named  Perkins  are 
so  proud  of.  I  saw  the  woman  break  a  loaf  in  two  and 
give  both  parts  to  him  one  day.  Just  think,  a  whole  loaf 
of  bread,  and  a  dog,  only  good  for  chasing  cows  and  bark- 
ing when  folks  pass.  So  come  on,  Stanislarni ;  and  when 
your  legs  shake  because  you  are  tired,  I  will  not  beat  you 
very  hard,  for  you  are  my  first-born,  and  I  love  you 
much." 

Olka  came  to  the  fence  and  looked  scornfully  at  the 
old  greenhorn.  Did  she  want  work?  Was  she  some 
relation  to  Kani,  that  he  never  told  her  about  ?  The  boy 
tentatively  ran  out  his  tongue  at  Olka.  The  latter  thought 
his  mother  encouraged  him  by  another  furtive  kick. 

As  the  most  cutting  thing  she  could  say  she  remarked 
to  Kani,  in  their  own  tongue,  "  One  would  think  that 
old  woman  looked  on  you  as  her  husband." 

Kani,  moistening  his  lips  with  his  tongue  a  couple  of 
times,  replied  simply,  "  She  does." 

Olka  burst  into  a  torrent  of  Polish  vituperation,  skil- 
fully embroidered  with  English  filth. 

Mrs.  Natupski  lifted  her  head  and  listened.  Then  she 
proudly  reassumed  her  two  hip  burdens,  called  Stanislarni 
sharply,  and  turned  on  her  way.  Kani's  jaw  dropped. 
He  ran  after  her. 

"  Come  back !  You  come  back !  "  he  yelled.  Then  he 
pursued  her,  shouting  explanations.  "  You  too  far ! 
Me  all  alone.  Me  here  all  alone.  Come  back.  Stanis- 
larni come  back." 


MRS.  NATUPSKI  15 

He  tried  to  speak  English.  Perhaps  he  thought  the 
child  did  not  understand  Polish.  When  he  caught  up  to 
them  he  ran  alongside  and  continually  repeated  his  frag- 
ments of  pleading.  The  woman  trudged  right  on,  but 
the  child,  already  weary,  began  to  lag  and  whimper;  let 
go  his  hold  on  his  mother's  skirts  and  half  turned. 

"  Patrz! "  he  cried,  pointing  at  the  house. 

As  in  a  pillar  of  fire  Olka  stood  by  the  burning  bush. 
Whether  she  had  tried  to  follow,  and  had  carelessly 
pulled  her  flimsy  kimono  through  the  blaze,  or  if  she 
had  not  cared  for  life,  knowing  herself  deceived,  Kani 
Natupski  was  never  to  be  told.  Cousin  Nicholas  saved 
her  from  the  result  of  whatever  accident  or  purpose 
there  was.  Whipping  off  his  coat,  a  roomy  old  ulster 
inside  which  he  had  been  shivering  in  the  sharp  air,  he 
rolled  her  on  the  ground,  from  which  she  was  then  helped 
up  unhurt. 

The  burning  bush,  perhaps  exasperated  at  loss  of  its 
prey,  blazed  with  extra  fury;  by  its  light  Olka  and 
Nicholas  exchanged  a  few  rapid  words  and  then  sepa- 
rated, he  going  barnward,  she  entering  the  house.  Im- 
mediately, in  the  glare,  Nicholas  could  be  seen  leading 
out  the  noble  black  horse  for  which  Kani  was  still  in- 
debted two  notes  of  three  and  six  months  each  at  six  and 
a  half  and  five  per  cent.  Attached  thereto  was  the  shin- 
ing wagon  for  which  he  had  forwarded  the  proceeds  of 
the  owen  to  South  Bend,  Ind.  The  harness  had  already 
been  put  in  place.  Kani  was  settling  for  the  harness  on 
the  basis  of  $2.50  a  month. 

At  her  child's  exclamation  Marinki  had  whirled  about, 
she  even  joined  Kani  in  panting  up  the  hill  down  which 
she   had   marched   so   proudly.      Seeing  them   coming, 


16  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

Cousin  Nicholas  gave  a  sharp  call,  whereat  Olka  stumbled 
out  of  the  house.  With  one  hand  she  held  firmly  on  her 
head  a  mass  of  lace  curtains  and  stringy  plumes,  the 
thing  that  had  been  her  wedding  hat.  With  the  other 
hand  she  fumbled  at  the  fastenings  of  her  $6.98  bargain 
wedding  gown.  She  walked  unsteadily  because  she  had 
thrust  her  toes  into  French-heeled  slippers.  A  pair  of 
striped  stockings — green — and  a  near-silk  petticoat,  corn 
color,  hung  on  her  arm.  Nicholas  lost  no  time  boosting 
her  (and  his  concertina)  into  the  wagon.  Following  over 
the  tailboard  he  grabbed  the  reins  and  drove  off  in  too 
much  of  a  hurry  to  sit  down.  Both  yelling  derision,  and 
Olka  helping  what  she  could  by  plying  the  whip,  they 
vanished  from  the  vision  of  Mrs.  Natupski. 

As  for  Kani,  he  was  employed  running  hither  and 
yon,  crying  excitedly,  "  'Statia,  my  little  'Statia,  where 
she  gone,  where  she  gone?" 

Marinki  believed  him  bewailing  that  other  woman. 
She  could  not  keep  a  dignified  scorn  from  her  gesture, 
as  she  pointed  over  the  brow  of  the  hill,  where  wheel 
tracks  would  be  seen  come  morning.  But  Kani  had 
suddenly  begun  to  laugh.  "  Here  she's,  here  she's !  "  he 
bellowed,  finding  the  baby  sleeping  on  the  step.  Olka 
had  chosen  what  she  thought  the  better  part.  Lacking 
time  to  assemble  both  her  infant  and  her  fine  clothes, 
she  went  with  the  clothes.  They  should  help  her  to  a 
new  husband.  The  baby  would  not  do  that,  unless  she 
took  another  Polander  of  the  old  fashion.  Feeling  the 
breath  of  Cousin  Nick  on  her  neck  she  didn't  believe  she 
would  so  choose. 

Kani  had  but  one  idea  in  recovering  his  offspring,  to 
shoot  it  into  the  arms  of  Marinki.    They  closed  mechani- 


MRS.  NATUPSKI  17 

cally  about  the  little  gift.  At  the  same  time  the  almost 
three  months  older  Wajeiceh,  whose  native  sod  was  a 
steerage  cabin,  slid  off  her  hip.  He  landed  on  the  ground 
with  a  thump  and  set  up  an  astounded  yell.  His  baby- 
hood had  been  brought  to  an  abrupt  end,  but  he  did  not 
know  that  was  why  he  cried. 

Mrs.  Natupski  picked  him  up,  with  half  an  arm,  and 
followed  her  husband  and  Stanislarni  into  the  house.  It 
had  been  a  long  journey  from  Poland,  not  to  speak  of  the 
weary  search  for  Kani  which  began  with  that  Lowell  in 
America,  and  had  only  just  ended  in  West  Holly.  So 
many  were  the  adventures  that  this  great  one  at  the  last 
loomed  no  larger  than  the  wonders  of  the  tiled  bath  on 
ship,  or  constant  marmalade  for  breakfast. 

Dropping  wearily  into  the  broken  rocking-chair  which 
Mrs.  Judson  Buckland  had  not  thought  worth  moving, 
and  baring  her  bosoms  to  the  two  infants,  "  Siedziec  w 
domu"  ("I  am  come  home"),  said  Mrs.  Natupski. 


II 

IN  CIVILIZATION'S  SERVICE 

All  was  soon  as  peaceful  in  the  Natupski  mansion 
as  could  be  any  house  that  contained  two  infants  under 
twelve  weeks  of  age.  Mrs.  Natupski  complacently  per- 
formed the  duties  of  a  mother.  Kani  drudged  as  a  beast 
of  burden  but  for  occasional  detours  into  the  stable, 
where  he  hugged  Stanislarni  and  then  beat  him  for  not 
properly  cleaning  the  cow-pen.  A  fork  had  been  put 
into  the  boy's  hand,  as  the  proper  implement  for  a  four- 
year-old. 

Not  so  did  peace  reign  in  any  other  part  of  West 
Holly.  The  disturbance  began  with  Nancy  Slocumb  at 
the  breakfast  table  with  her  husband. 

"  You  know  the  Polanders,  Abner,"  she  said,  while 
dishing  out  fried  pork  and  cream  gravy. 

He  nodded,  grinned,  and  put  his  hand  sympathetically 
on  a  lump  which  Kani  Natupski's  shoe  had  raised  during 
the  altercation  over  the  blueberry  bush. 

"You  recollect  the  wife  he  had  yesterday?" 

"  Guess  I  can  manage  to  keep  a  good-looking  woman 
in  my  mind  so  long." 

"  Don't  be  coarse,  Abner !  Well,  there's  a  wife  there 
today,  but  she's  the  spitting  image  of  somebody  else." 

"  Shucks !  "  said  Abner,  allowing  two  extra  spoonfuls 
of  sugar  to  cover  the  four  already  in  his  cup,  and  hoping 
Nance  would  put  this  prodigality  down  as  due  to  ex- 

18 


IN  CIVILIZATION'S  SERVICE  19 

citement.  "  How  d'ye  know  so  much  ?  Maybe  it's  a 
walkess  come  to  help  out.  The  baby  was  born  a  fort- 
night since." 

"  Don't  tell  me.  If  they'd  been  going  to  have  hired 
help  they'd  have  got  one  first  thing.  Besides,  there's 
another  mystery.     The  baby's  two-three  months  old." 

Abner  considered  that  impossible. 

"  Fact,"  continued  Nancy,  "  for  I  slipped  up  on  the 
stoop  when  nobody  was  round.  It  lay  in  the  rocker,  I 
poked  my  ringer  into  its  mouth,  and  it  was  cutting  a 
tooth!" 

"  A  feller  in  English  history  or  Shakespeare  was  born 
with  'em,"  Abner  volunteered,  but  Nancy  cared  nothing 
for  the  past,  being  wholly  concerned  with  the  immediate 
present  in  West  Holly.  Something,  she  declared,  must 
be  done,  and  at  once.  These  foreigners  came  to  live 
nigh  us,  and  as  like  as  not  they  were  used  to  being 
Mormons  "  or  worse  "  in  their  own  country.  And  it 
was  a  man's  place  to  investigate. 

Whereupon  Nancy  walked  to  the  telephone  and  called 
up  Mrs.  Perkins,  Mrs.  Blanchard  Bowes,  Mrs.  Hiram 
Farrar,  and  all  her  other  female  neighbors,  in  order  that 
they  might  convey  these  suspicions  to  their  men  folks 
in  properly  lurid  style.  In  the  meantime  Abner  went 
about  the  matter  man  fashion,  for  he  looked  over  the 
fence  at  Kani  Natupski  and  after  speaking  of  the 
weather,  politics,  winter  coming  on  and  how  chilly  it 
was  getting  nights,  to  each  of  which  the  reply  was  an 
unmitigated  "  Yah !  "  he  came  out  with,  "  Got  company 
to  your  house  ?  " 

"  Wife.  Lil'  boy.  Baby,"  said  Natupski.  "  In  ship, 
from  Poland.    Me  glad." 


20  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

Abner  sat  down  hard,  got  up  quickly  to  see  where  he 
had  split  the  fence  rail,  and  dragged  himself  into  the 
presence  of  Nancy,  where  he  was  obliged  to  gratify  her 
with  the  intelligence  that  she  had  been  almost  right. 
At  the  same  moment  the  appearance  of  Mrs.  Natupski  on 
the  piazza  with  an  infant  draped  over  each  arm  solved 
another  mystery. 

Public  opinion  was  soon  roused  against  the  mischievous 
foreign  element,  and  while  Kani  and  Marinki  continued 
their  labors  as  packmule  and  mother  and  foster  mother, 
West  Holly  adorned  them  with  various  titles,  not  even 
sparing  that  of  "  murderer."  The  poor  young  woman, 
Olka,  it  was  declared,  might  be  even  then  weltering  in 
her  gore  down  cellar,  or  at  least  pining  away  in  the 
garret.  When  the  men  sneered  at  these  theories,  the 
women  retorted  to  effect  that  "  Such  things  did  happen, 
so  now,  and  not  only  in  Mrs.  Southworth's  novels.  Look 
in  your  daily  papers !  " 

Suspicions  of  violence  departed  when  Olka  took  to 
driving  about  with  Nicholas  Kovinski  in  the  buggy  that 
had  been  Natupski's,  after  the  once  Natupski  nag,  but 
this  made  the  moral  aspect  of  the  affair  more  shocking 
than  before. 

West  Holly  was  an  ordinary  piece  of  a  large  town, 
set  apart  for  something  akin  to  self-government  because 
of  a  huge  sparsely  inhabited  hill  which  intervened  be- 
tween it  and  all  the  rest  of  Holly.  To  get  anywhere  you 
went  a  long  way  around  the  mountain.  Really,  this  bit 
of  a  settlement  should  have  attached  itself  to  Lansing 
or  Hamson,  both  towns  being  much  nearer  than  were 
Holly  Centre  or  Holly  Depot,  but  it  clung  tenaciously 
to  Holly,  perhaps  in  order  to  swell  with  pride  when- 


IN  CIVILIZATION'S  SERVICE  21 

ever  any  one  mentioned  Holly  Academy,  where  no  West 
Holly ite  of  the  older  generation  but  Blanchard  Bowes 
ever  essayed  to  go,  and  he  was  expelled  in  one  term  for 
coaxing  a  calf  to  the  upper  floor  of  the  female  dormitory. 

West  Holly  considered  itself  a  village  all  complete.  It 
had  a  church  and  graveyard,  but  no  grocery,  whereby  one 
obtains  a  perfect  picture  of  the  kind  of  a  place  it  was.  The 
church  was  one  door  wide  and  two  windows  deep.  The 
minister  was  a  non-resident,  borrowed  for  Sunday  after- 
noons from  the  Methodists  of  Hamson.  There  was  a 
good  sheriff,  however,  always  available  unless  he  had 
over-addicted  himself  to  hard  cider;  and  Blanchard 
Bowes  was  land  surveyor,  fence-viewer,  hog  reeve, 
justice  of  the  peace,  and  sole  owner  of  a  painted  barn 
with  a  cupola  and  weathervane. 

Not  being  devoid  of  modern  literature  or  a  woman's 
club,  West  Holly  knew  other  places  wrestled  with  an 
"  immigrant  problem,"  but  the  Natupski  problem  was 
its  own  and  its  first.  West  Holly,  not  ungleefully,  pro- 
ceeded to  wrestle. 

It  was  decided  not  to  speak  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Skeele, 
because,  in  a  way,  as  Mrs.  Sabrina  Perkins  pointed  out, 
he  too  was  a  foreigner,  having  been  born  in  Nova  Scotia. 
Besides,  he  lived  in  Hamson,  and  West  Holly  didn't  want 
its  scandals  spread  all  over  the  county..  Mrs.  Perkins 
was  strong  for  "  haling "  the  wicked  Polander  before 
justice,  and  putting  him  through  a  regular  trial.  Say, 
at  the  schoolhouse  some  evening,  when  the  chores  were 
done  up.  She  and  the  other  women  could  lend  a  lamp 
apiece,  and  Mr.  Bowes  might  preside.  Natupski  had 
picked  up  considerable  English,  however  he  did  it  so 
quick,  and  she  guessed  between  'em  all  they  could  under- 


22  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

stand  what  he  might  have  to  say  for  himself.  Not  that 
there  was  anything  in  his  defense  to  be  said.  It  was 
perfectly  evident  that  he  had  deceived  that  poor  young 
creature,  Olka,  and  now  deprived  her  even  of  her  child. 
A  mother's  heart  always  cleaved — clave — clove — how- 
ever you  put  it — to  her  child.  Look  at  the  divorce  cases 
when  all  the  quarrel  was  over  how  to  divide  the  children. 
Sometimes  the  other  party  kidnapped  'em,  too.  It  meant 
something,  the  way  she  and  the  Kovinski  fellow  rode  up 
and  down  the  highway. 

Six  West  Holly  men  met  at  the  watering  trough  one 
afternoon,  and  while  waiting  for  precedence,  the  matter 
of  Mr.  Natupski  and  the  two  Natupski  women  came  up. 

"  My  women  folks,"  grunted  Blanchard  Bowes,  "  de- 
clare he  ought  to  be  convicted  and  tried.  Yes,  that's  the 
correct  order,  according  to  their  way  of  putting  it." 

"  Mrs.  Perkins,"  observed  Sabrina's  husband,  "  con- 
siders them  a  disgrace  to  the  neighborhood.  Says  we'll 
be  a  byword  to  the  rest  of  the  town  unless  we  take 
some  sort  of  action." 

Three  nods  from  as  many  heads  indicated  the  preva- 
lence of  Mrs.  Perkins'  opinions.  Abner  Slocumb  drove 
up  last. 

"  How's  your  wife  feel?  "  asked  Mr.  Bowes.  "  You're 
the  nighest  to  the  seat  of  war  and  should  have  the 
strongest  opinions." 

"  My  wife's  way  of  thinking,"  said  Abner,  "  is  just 
like  every  other  woman's.  She  wouldn't  want  to  be 
caught  out  of  style,  whether  'twas  matter  of  a  bunnet  or 
state  o'  mind." 

"  Great  pity,"  remarked  Bowes,  "  that  Mrs.  Judson 
Buckland  sold  out.     If  she  hadn't  been  in  such  a  hurry 


IN  CIVILIZATION'S  SERVICE  23 

to  turn  her  land  into  cash  and  move  to  the  depot,  she'd 
likely  have  had  a  real  good  offer  from  some  party  that'd 
been  an  addition  to  the  neighborhood.  But  women  are 
always  carried  away  with  novelty." 

Each  man  hastened  to  agree  to  this,  which,  as  a  general 
proposition,  might  be  true,  though  it  hardly  applied  to 
Mrs.  Buckland,  whose  farm  had  been  in  the  market  ten 
years,  without  a  taker,  before  the  arrival  of  Kani 
Natupski. 

Mr.  Perkins  objected  chiefly  to  the  inevitable  lowering 
of  what  he  referred  to  as  "  West  Holly  standards." 

"  Say  you  have  company  from  the  city,"  he  explained, 
"  and  you  hitch  up  and  take  'em  round  to  show  'em 
West  Holly  is  getting  to  amount  to  something  these  days. 
You  point  out  the  Blanchard  Bowes  peach  orchard,  and 
tell  how  many  men  and  dogs  patrol  night  times  when 
the  peaches  is  most  ripe,  and  their  eyes  begin  to  stick  out. 
Then  you  go  on  to  Abner  Slocumb's  and  they  take  in  the 
bay  windows  and  iron  stag  in  the  front  yard  and  the 
squirting  fountain  with  the  boy  and  girl  under  an  um- 
brella, and  they  have  to  allow  ain't  anything  tastier  or 
more  fancy  in  the  city  itself.  So  far  so  good,  but  then 
it's  necessary  to  drive  past  Natupski's,  and  after  that 
you've  got  to  cave  in.  Every  bit  of  green  grubbed  up, 
house  spilling  filth,  and  the  whole  family  certain  sure  to 
be  walking  round  half  dressed.  No  use  to  take  'em 
further.  They  won't  believe  we  know  how  to  live  like 
folks  when  we  tolerate  such  a  human  hog-pen  on  our 
main-traveled  road." 

"  And  what  it  will  be  when  those  children  get  school 
age  I  shudder  to  think  of,"  observed  Hiram  Farrar,  who 
boarded  the  teacher  and  always  had  the  inside  history  of 


24  OUR  NATtfPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

how  the  educational  system,  with  or  without  vertical 
penmanship,  was  working  on  the  baker's  dozen  of  West 
Holly  pupils. 

"  Be  we  men  or  mice?  "  piped  up  the  sixth  man  in  so 
shrill  a  voice  that  every  person  and  some  horses  jumped. 
Solomon  Russell  sat  well  hidden  under  the  hood  of  his 
low-topped  buggy.  He  and  his  little  chunk  were  never 
aggressive.  The  horse  was  only  beginning  to  sip  what 
water  remained  after  the  voracious  tall  animals  had 
been  satisfied.  All  six  men  were  coming  from  the  cider 
mill.  Five  long  wagons  were  laden  with  barrels.  Solo- 
mon had  only  a  modest  cask,  coyly  hidden  under  a  plush 
lap  robe. 

Solomon  had  never  married ;  he  lived  alone,  in  a  house 
he  had  inherited,  and  spent  most  of  his  time  driving 
around  pleading  poverty.  As  he  dressed  neatly  and 
plead  in  a  low,  refined  voice,  he  was  generally  successful 
in  obtaining  concessions.  The  hire  of  a  yoke  of  oxen 
and  a  plow,  $5  a  day  to  every  one  else,  was  only  $3.75 
to  Solomon,  with  a  stout  boy  thrown  in  to  hold  the 
plow.  Naturally  Solomon  Russell  would  not  approve  of 
Kani  Natupski,  whose  idea  of  farming  was  one  of 
personal  hard  labor.  So,  "  Be  we  men  or  mice?  "  piped 
up  the  old  bachelor. 

"  What's  your  meaning?  "  asked  Blanchard  Bowes. 

"  Be  we  going  to  stand  this  invasion  or  be  we  going 
to  drive  'em  out,  first  thing,  before  any  more  gets  in? 
America  for  the  Americans,  is  my  cry.  I  got  it  from 
father.  He  was  a  Know-Nothing  and  left  a  lot  of  read- 
ing about  that  party  which  is  just  as  good  now  as  then. 
There,  I've  said  my  say.  If  I  was  a  next-door  neighbor, 
like  Slocumb,  or  had  land  adjoining,  as  you,  Bowes,  it 


IN  CIVILIZATION'S  SERVICE  25 

wouldn't  be  long  before  there  was  a  vacant  house  where 
Natupski's  is.  What's  law  and  order  for?  Be  we  men 
or  mice  ?  " 

Feeling  he  had  made  a  neat  speech,  Solomon  cramped 
his  wheels,  turned  in  an  incredibly  small  mud  puddle,  and 
sent  the  little  chunk  pattering  away  while  the  impression 
was  good. 

The  other  men  likewise  departed,  after  registering  a 
vague  opinion  that  something  must  be  done  to  cut  this 
festering  canker  out  of  the  otherwise  pure  body  politic  of 
West  Holly. 

Abner  Slocumb,  almost  at  home,  met  Mrs.  Judson 
Buckland,  whose  old  calico  horse  was  droning  down  the 
road  at  its  own  gait,  while  the  driver  exulted  over  a 
wad  of  money  which  she  was  spreading  over  her  capa- 
cious lap,  irrespective  of  danger  from  what  highway 
robbers  might  infest  West  Holly. 

Mrs.  Buckland  was  the  free-and-easy  sort.  "  Hullo, 
there,"  she  bawled,  "  look  at  all  the  nasty  greenbacks 
Natupski's  paid  me — quarter's  interest,  right  on  the  nail. 
Took  'em  out  of  his  boot — hope  they'll  hold  together  till 
I  can  get  'em  to  the  bank.  I  started  to  show  'em  to  your 
wife,  and  make  her  green  with  envy,  but  she  just  squealed 
*  germs  '  and  bolted  the  door." 

"  All  dollar  bills?  "  asked  Abner. 

"  Sure.  The  poor  runt  can't  pick  up  much  but  chicken 
feed  this  time  of  year.  If  I'd  sold  to  an  American  he'd 
have  held  me  off  till  next  season's  crops,  and  I'd  been 
just  the  soft-hearted  fool  to  let  him." 

Abner,  only  too  well  aware  that  he  was  generally  ready 
to  beg  for  time  when  the  interest  was  due  on  his  mort- 
gage, smiled  in  a  sickly  manner  and — as  Solomon  Russell 


26  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

half  an  hour  earlier — mentally  hoped  Natupski  wasn't 
setting  what  was  to  become  a  West  Holly  fashion. 

Mrs.  Buckland  went  on  gloating.  "  Overpaid  me,  too, 
into  three  dollars,  on  account  of  the  bills  sticking  to- 
gether, as  I've  just  found  out.  I  think  he  saw  it  just  as 
I  drove  down  the  road,  for  he  came  through  the  house 
roaring  something  in  his  jargon  which  I  thought  best 
not  to  hear.  Then,  judging  from  the  sounds,  he  went  in 
and  beat  his  wife.  Say,  ain't  she  aged  rapidly?  My 
eyesight  ain't  very  good,  and  these  foreign  faces  never 
make  much  impression  on  me,  but  honest  to  goodness 
she  didn't  seem  to  me  the  same  woman  I  got  a  glimpse  of 
last  July.  And  where  do  they  get  such  a  snarl  of  young 
ones  ?  " 

Abner  escaped  without  explaining  things  to  the  volatile 
Mrs.  Buckland.  She  was  too  good  a  gossip  to  be  trusted 
with  West  Holly's  closet  skeleton. 

When  he  was  safely  beyond  hailing  distance  he  turned 
and  watched  Mrs.  Buckland  and  her  outfit  disappear. 
The  horse  being  piebald,  her  buggy  painted  yellow  with 
red  running-gear,  and  her  attire  a  pink  and  green-striped 
shirtwaist  above  a  blue  plaid  skirt,  there  was  a  total  im- 
pression as  of  a  crazy  quilt  borne  away  by  a  sluggish 
wind. 

"  Always  a  darn  nice  neighbor,"  mused  Abner,  "  for 
borrowing  saleratus  and  such.  And  I  don't  think  it's 
improved  her  one  mite  having  become  a  creditor.  Took 
three  dollars  over  and  above  her  due !  " 

Abner  pulled  a  neat  pocketbook  from  his  vest  and 
inspected  the  contents.  There  were  exactly  three  one- 
dollar  bills.  And  what  different  bills  from  those  Mrs. 
Buckland  bore  away  from  Natupski's!    Nancy  Slocumb 


IN  CIVILIZATION'S  SERVICE  27 

washed  and  dried  every  piece  of  paper  money  that  came 
into  her  house — the  specie  had  to  stand  a  good  scouring 
with  whiting  and  later  polishing  under  chamois  skin. 
Abner's  three  bills  looked  so  new  that  he  might  have 
just  made  them  himself. 

After  he  had  put  the  horse  up  he  meandered  to  the  line 
fence  and  took  careful  note  of  what  Natupski  had  been 
doing  all  day.  Clearing  a  field  of  stones.  It  was  marvel- 
ously  cleared,  too;  and  not  a  corner  left  for  harboring 
seed-scattering  weeds.  Abner  Slocumb  wasn't  that  sort 
of  a  farmer,  but  he  could  appreciate  it. 

Natupski  was  out  by  the  road,  waving  a  hand,  bruised 
and  bloody  from  stone  picking,  at  the  butcher's  cart. 
He  meant  to  buy  no  meat  this  evening — not  even  his 
usual  meager  purchase  of  half  a  pound  of  Hamburg 
steak.  Mrs.  Natupski,  drooping  over  the  two  infants 
who  were  dragging  her  down,  looked  a  hollow-eyed  dis- 
appointment, but  said  nothing. 

Abner  Slocumb  could  not  avoid  connecting  the  pass- 
ing of  the  butcher  and  Mrs.  Buckland's  unmerited  gain. 

"  Plaguy  old  woman,  eat  up  with  avarice,"  muttered 
Abner,  and  looked  again  at  his  clean  dollar  bills.  He  had 
been  intending  to  break  one  of  them  at  the  butcher's 
cart,  but  he  too  waved  the  white  top  along.  After  all, 
he  and  Nance  didn't  need  lamb  chops  at  twenty-eight 
cents  the  pound.  They  could  make  out  perfectly  well 
with  bacon,  ham,  dried  beef,  salted  mackerel,  codfish  in 
cream,  baked  beans,  and  a  couple  those  roosters  that 
strutted  round  eating  their  heads  off. 

When  he  went  into  the  house  if  there  wasn't  his 
creditor  come  about  the  interest  on  the  Slocumb  place. 
Only  no  one  would  have  suspected  it. 


28  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

This  creditor  spoke  about  the  new  branch  railroad 
and  the  cat  and  whether  the  governor  had  been  justified 
in  refusing  to  sign  a  bill  for  a  feeble-minded  home  in  the 
county,  so  all  the  idiots  needn't  be  sent  away  off  to 
Boston,  where  their  folks  could  hardly  have  the  satisfac- 
tion of  seeing  them  twice  a  year.  Nothing  was  said 
about  anything  so  vulgar  as  money.  After  an  hour  of 
this  the  creditor  rose  to  go,  and  while  drawing  on  a  pair 
of  driving  gloves  commiserated  with  the  Slocumbs  on 
their  new  neighbors. 

"  You  must  feel  it,"  were  the  words,  "  this  invasion. 
Such  old  settlers  as  your  family — you  hold  it  on  a  grant 
from  the  Indians,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  My  forbears,"  laughed  Abner,  "  are  generally  sup- 
posed to  have  got  the  better  of  the  red  man  one  time  the 
latter  was  wagged  out  with  fire  water.  I've  never  felt 
very  consequentious  over  the  transaction." 

"  Oh,  it  was  quite  justifiable — quite.  You  see,  the 
red  men  never  developed  or  improved  the  country.  They 
had  to  go  to  the  wall  in  the  interest  of  civilization.  Now, 
these  Natupskis " 

"  I  haven't  any  cash  on  hand  just  now,"  cried  Abner, 
as  if  glad  to  talk  of  anything  not  Natupski.  And  so  he 
was,  for  memory  of  that  stoneless  field  contrasted  with 
his  own,  feeding  in  which  was  possible  only  to  the 
proverbial  sharpened  sheep's  nose.  If  his  forbears  per- 
formed a  noble  deed  in  supplanting  the  savages,  what 
would  be  the  historic  opinion  of  a  slack  New  Englander 
who  acted  as  obstructionist  to  an  industrious  Polander? 
So,  "  I  haven't  any  cash  on  hand,"  he  blurted  out,  adding, 
"  I  calculate  to  sell  the  apples  next  week,  or  maybe  the 


IN  CIVILIZATION'S  SERVICE  29 

week  after.  I'd  have  tried  to  catch  up  if  I'd  known  you 
was  coming." 

And,  "  Oh,  that's  perfectly  satisfactory,"  returned  the 
creditor.  "  I  just  thought  I'd  drop  in  while  I  was 
up  this  way.  You  can  mail  me  a  check  when  it's 
convenient." 

Abner  Slocumb  glowed  with  manly  pride  at  the  manner 
in  which  the  affair  was  conducted,  and  the  creditor  seemed 
quite  contented,  too.  Not  so  did  Mrs.  Judson  Buckland 
treat  Kani  Natupski.  Oh,  not  so!  Abner  felt  that  he 
ought  to  thank  the  Powers  that  Be  that  fate  hadn't  made 
him  a  foreigner  with  a  mortgaged  farm  in  West  Holly. 
Then  he  wondered  what  the  Powers  that  Be  had  to  do 
with  it. 

In  the  end  he  went  out  in  the  yard  and  looked  at  his 
three  dollar  bills.  He  felt  a  queer,  a  thoroughly  non- 
New  England  impulse.  He  would  like  to  walk  up  to 
Natupski  and  say,  "  Here's  three  dollars  for  you.  Do 
what  you  goP  ram  please  with  it."  Only  he  was  afraid 
the  Polander  wouldn't  take  the  money.  He  had  an 
idea  he  was  proud — under  all  his  dirt  and  vermin  and 
ignorance,  proud !  There  was  only  one  way  to  get  round 
such  pride.  Tell  a  lie.  Slocumb  told  it  like  a  gentle- 
man. 

He  handed  the  three  dollars  to  Natupski,  with  a  story 
of  having  been  entrusted  with  the  money  by  Mrs.  Buck- 
land  when  she  found  she  had  been  overpaid.  He  won- 
dered if  he  had  saved  Mrs.  Natupski  from  a  beating  by 
his  deception.  And  then  again,  was  it  not  a  bruise  she 
was  nursing  on  her  cheek?  Had  he  saved  her  from  a 
beating?  And,  after  all,  why  should  he  save  her  from 
a  beating? 


3o  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

He  felt  he  had  somehow  got  the  better  of  Mrs.  Buck- 
land.    That  alone  was  worth  three  dollars. 

"  Pretty  small  potatoes,  I  call  it,  picking  on  a  foreigner 
because  he  is  one.  What  sort  of  a  figure  'd  we  cut  in  his 
country,  I'd  like  to  know?  Green  as  grass  to  ways  and 
lingo." 

Right  after  this  came  a  call  to  the  schoolhouse  that 
evening.  Blanchard  Bowes  was  driving  about,  asking 
the  men  of  West  Holly  to  meet  and  discuss  the  Natupski 
scandal. 

Slocumb  considered  a  while,  rolling  a  pebble  this  way 
and  that  under  his  boot.  Finally  he  said,  slowly,  •"  Wal 
— yes — I  guess  I'll  be  on  hand." 

"  Do  we  want  the  women  folks?  "  asked  Bowes. 

Slocumb  came  to  a  sudden  decision.  "  We  do  not," 
he  said. 

"  On  account  the  scandalous  doings  ?  " 

"  On  account  the  scandalous  doings.  The  tow  row 
is  liable  to  be  something  awful." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Bowes,  and  went  to  drum  up 
recruits,  licking  his  lips. 

The  schoolhouse  was  warm  as  toast  and  bright  with 
six-lantern  power  when  the  men  assembled.  They  felt 
they  were  part  of  history,  and  bore  themselves  with  dig- 
nity, not  to  say  as  on  stilts.  But  over  on  the  Judson 
Buckland  place  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Natupski  little  dreamed 
what  this  evening  was  in  their  life  story.  They  thought 
it  the  first  real  frosty  night  of  the  year,  when  both  babies 
had  the  colic  because  economy  had  dictated  no  fire  in 
the  bleak  house ;  and  Stanislarni  nearly  gave  up  the  ghost 
from  unwonted  indulgence  in  green  chestnuts.  The  cow 
was  sick,  too,  and  a  veterinary  came  to  look  at  her  and 


IN  CIVILIZATION'S  SERVICE  31 

shake  his  head,  which  cost  two  of  Abner  Slocumb's 
three  dollars.  Mr.  Natupski  dragged  his  leather  belt 
a  notch  or  two  closer  as  the  supperless  night  wore  on, 
and  Mrs.  Natupski  polished  her  teeth  with  a  piece  of  hard 
bread  on  which  the  chickens  had  whetted  their  beaks 
without  making  any  impression.  In  fact,  it  was,  for 
them,  a  very  ordinary  evening,  because  if  the  vet.  wasn't 
always  called,  something  was  generally  dying  in  the  hen- 
house or  barn. 

Farming  in  Massachusetts  was  different  from  farming 
in  Poland — besides,  Kani  Natupski  had  not  been  a  farmer 
in  Poland.  In  Poland  he  had  envied  the  farmers,  that 
was  why  he  had  so  yearned  for  a  bit  of  land. 

He  would  accept  no  advice  from  Americans.  His 
own  people,  in  this  country  many  years,  told  him  to  accept 
no  American  advice.  The  Americans  did  not  know  how 
to  live,  they  spent  money  as  fast  as  they  earned  it,  they 
seemed  to  think  one  earned  only  to  spend. 

Looking  at  his  wife  Marinki,  Kani  felt  a  sudden 
pleasure  in  that  she  had  followed  him  from  Poland.  He 
did  not  send  for  her  because  it  seemed  foolish  to  bring 
a  wife  from  Poland  when  one  had  a  wife  at  hand  here, 
but  Olka  had  been  something  of  a  disappointment.  She 
had  wasted  five  minutes  every  morning  combing  her 
hair,  and  had  asked  money  to  buy  clothes  when  less  than 
a  year  married.  Marinki  would  be  a  help.  She  could 
not  buy  clothes,  for  she  knew  no  American  words  with 
which  to  ask  for  them  in  shops. 

While  he  went  about,  thinking  all  this,  hauling  poultry 
from  the  frosty  trees  in  which  they  persisted  in  roosting, 
and  flinging  them,  a  squawking  mass,  into  the  dusty 
shed;  and  between  whiles  helping  his  wife  to  cuddle  the 


32  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

sick  children  in  warmed  rags,  his  fate  was  being  settled 
in  the  seat  of  learning  for  West  Holly. 

The  arraignment  was  the  same  as  that  at  the  watering 
trough.  West  Holly  resented  the  invasion  of  Natupski. 
It  was  ready  to  drive  him  out,  by  fair  means  or 
foul. 

Fair  means — describing  to  the  proper  authorities  that 
immoral  performance,  bringing  a  wife  home  who  was 
no  wife  at  all. 

Foul  means — cutting  his  wire  fences. 

The  first  would  probably  put  Mr.  Natupski  in  jail. 
Mrs.  Natupski  would  then  be  unable  to  keep  the  farm, 
Mrs.  Judson  Buckland  would  foreclose,  and  the  immi- 
grant peril  be  forever  over  in  West  Holly. 

("Unless  she  sells  to  the  Jewish  Ag.  Soc,"  Solomon 
Russell  murmured,  but  no  one  paid  any  attention  to  the 
poor  old  bach.) 

The  men  had  disposed  themselves  according  to  char- 
acter. Blanchard  Bowes  was  in  the  teacher's  seat  on  the 
platform.  Blanchard  Bowes  was  the  sort  of  man  who 
naturally  takes  chairs  and  gravitates  to  platforms.  Solo- 
mon Russell  was  on  the  dunce  stool.  That,  too,  was 
natural.  Solomon  had  been  there  most  of  his  schooldays. 
Josiah  Perkins  used  a  desk  for  a  seat.  Josiah  and  his 
wife  were  always  out  for  novelty.  Abner  Slocumb  was 
in  the  front  seat,  the  one  so  front  it  had  no  desk  in  front 
of  it.  He  was  endeavoring  to  construct  a  spit  ball  and 
doing  pretty  well  considering  how  many  years  it  was 
since  he  had  made  them  every  day. 

Abner  was  thinking  what  a  lot  of  old  hounds  we  West 
Holly  men  were,  and  what  a  poor  sort  of  an  anise  bag 
we  were  pursuing  (no,  he  wouldn't  dignify  Natupski  by 


IN  CIVILIZATION'S  SERVICE  33 

calling  him  a  fox).  Blanchard  Bowes,  up  there,  had 
exactly  the  sagacious  long  face  of  a  certain  Dowsabel 
that  bayed  the  mountain  each  autumn;  Perkins  wore  the 
ferret  look  of  a  younger  animal;  and  Sol  Russell  be- 
tokened a  worthy  desire  to  run  with  both  hound  and  hare, 
and  be  in  at  the  death,  whoever  was  killed.  Abner  fell 
to  wondering  if  there  was  any  council  fire  at  which  the 
hopes  of  his  ancestors  were  settled,  some  time  in  the 
seventeenth  century. 

Suddenly  he  pasted  Sol  Russell  in  the  forehead  with 
his  new  construction,  and  stalking  to  the  blackboard 
wrote : 

Pride 
Covetousness 


Wrath 
Gluttony 
Envy 
Sloth 


And,  in  another  column : 

Prudence 
Justice 
Temperance 
Fortitude 

"  Anybody  know  what  I'm  driving  at  ?  "  he  asked,  and 
Solomon  Russell  nodded. 

"  Oh,  you  think  you  know,  eh,  Sol  ?  Well,  Sol,  walk 
to  the  board  and  write  the  title  best  way  you  know  how." 


34  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

Solomon  selected  a  crayon  that  pleased  him  and  pro- 
duced in  fine  and  fancy  lettering: 

"  Seven  Deadly  Sins." 

"  Good.  You  shall  have  a  Reward  of  Merit  card,  Sol, 
to  take  home,  if  I  can  find  where  teacher  keeps  'em. 
Seven  Deadly  Sins.  I  left  the  third  blank,  so's  not  to  risk 
any  shadow  of  a  bad  word  disturbing  the  morals  of 
school  tomorrow,  but  it  starts  with  1  and  ends  with  t 
and  has  four  letters,  and  you  can  guess  what  'tis.  Now 
let's  take  'em  in  order,  since  I  think  our  Natupski  neigh- 
bors have  been  accused  of  pretty  much  all  of  'em,  taking 
it  by  and  large.  Pride  comes  first.  And  indeed  it  is 
a  deadly  sin.  I  own  to  it  myself.  I'm  house-proud  and 
barn-proud  and  tarnal-proud  of  the  Slocumb  family. 
When  I  was  younger  I  was  too  proud  to  work  out.  Folks 
thought  I  was  easy  as  Tilly,  but  I  wasn't,  I  was  proud. 
No  Slocumb  had  ever  been  anything  but  his  own  master. 
Now,  it  don't  seem  to  me  we  can  truthfully  call  this 
Natupski  fellow  one  bit  proud.  As  I  take  it  he  dug  like 
a  nigger  in  the  mill  to  make  a  payment  on  Mrs.  Buck- 
land's  weed-bound  farm,  and  he  isn't  above  hitching 
himself  into  the  shafts  since  he's  lost  his  horse,  for  I've 
seen  him.  So  we'll  have  to  cut  out  any  warrant  for 
pride. 

"  Covetousness.  Thou  shalt  not  covet  thy  neighbor's 
ox,  nor  his  wife,  nor  anything  that  is  thy  neighbor's. 
Gosh,  he  don't.  He  hasn't  borrowed  so  much  as  a  curry- 
comb yet,  and  that's  more'n  most  of  us  can  say  of 
American  born  and  raised  neighbors.  Remember  that 
winnowing  mill  of  yourn,  Bowes,  that  you  always  had  to 


IN  CIVILIZATION'S  SERVICE  35 

spend  two  days  chasing  from  place  to  place  when  you'd 
any  grain  to  winnow?  Why,  Natupski  has  even  set  up 
a  grindstone  of  his  own,  first  one  on  the  place  since  it 
was  a  place.  He  seems  to  think  I  bought  my  grindstone 
to  grind  my  own  scythes  on.  The  Bucklands  acted  as 
if  they  thought  it  was  kep'  for  their  special  benefit.  As 
for  wives — stop  snickering,  gents.  I  will  only  remark 
that  he  don't  exactly  need  any  of  our'n  at  the  present 
time,  having,  as  it  were,  bit  off  more'n  he  can  chew  in 
that  line. 

"  For  the  last  four — he  may  be  wrathy,  but  he  keeps 
it  pretty  much  for  home  use,  and  won't  pick  a  quarrel  if 
you  let  him  alone;  gluttony — folks  living  on  bread  crusts 
are  let  out  on  that  score;  he's  too  cock-sure  of  his  own 
ways  being  correct  to  rightly  know  what  envy  is;  and 
when  it  comes  to  sloth  we,  who  get  our  eight  hours  sleep 
and  doze  over  the  newspaper  all  noon,  haven't  any  call 
to  criticise  a  poor  cuss  who,  so  far  as  my  observance 
goes,  works  eighteen  hours  a  day  and  does  chores  the 
rest  of  the  time. 

"  Let  us  now  pass  to  the  other  column,  containing,  as 
I  presume  you  are  aware,  the  four  cardinal  virtues.  Pru- 
dence, justice,  temperance,  fortitude — any  one  proving 
up  to  that  standard  must  be  a  pretty  good  fellow.  Now 
isn't  our  neighbor  prudent  ?  He  puts  his  money  into  land 
and  home,  instead  of  blowing  it  on  good  times,  as  most 
young  chaps  who  emigrate  away  from  West  Holly  start 
doing.  He  practises  justice  and  pays  his  bills  on  the 
tick,  whether  he  can  buy  a  supper  or  not.  He's  temper- 
ate. I  never  expect  to  have  to  haul  him  out  of  the  wheel- 
tracks  into  his  barn  to  sleep  it  off,  as  I've  hauled  our 
worthy  sheriff  more'n  once  on  Sundays  when  his  wife 


36  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

wasn't  to  home  to  do  it  herself.  Fortitude!  That's  a 
big  word  with  a  lot  of  meaning.  Still,  it  seems  to  me  it's 
another  way  of  spelling  bravery,  and  he's  a  brave  man 
who  undertakes  to  support  a  wife  and  three  children  on 
Judson  Buckland's  worn-out  land,  and  pay  for  the  land 
while  he's  a-doing  it." 

"  They  that  know  nothing  fear  nothing,"  piped  up 
Mr.  Perkins.  "  I  just  read  that  out' en  a  copybook  here. 
You've  made  out  a  good  enough  case  for  the  foreigner, 
but  I  think  you've  slurred  a  leetle  mite  over  that  third 
sin,  the  unmentionable  one.  He's  an  immoral  man  by 
his  own  showing,  and  we  can't  harbor  an  immoral  man 
in  our  community.  Marrying  one  woman  while  you've 
got  another  and  a  couple  of  young  ones  is  doing  that 
can't  be  glossed  over.  It  stinks,  plain  as  the  nose  on 
your  face." 

"  Well,"  said  Abner,  "  some  of  us  are  church-goers, 
and  we  might  get  the  Rev.  Mr.  Skeele  to  give  a  discourse 
from  that  text  about  the  one  without  sin  casting  the  first 
stone.  You  know,  gentlemen,  there  is  a  part  of  West 
Holly  known  as  Silver  Street  ?  " 

Indications  of  unrest  were  noticeable  in  the  assembly. 

"  Over  in  what's  been  called  Silver  Street  since  the 
Tory  tax  collectors  before  the  Revolution  never  found 
more'n  a  single  sixpence  thereabouts,  were  two  families 
living  peaceable  and  happy  side  by  each.  One  couple  had 
three  boys,  the  other  one  girl.  The  father  of  the  girl 
set  eyes  on  the  mother  of  the  boys,  and  she  didn't  mind. 
So  it  was  proposed  to  t'other  husband  and  wife  that  they 
consent  to  swap  partners.  At  first  they  was  inclined  to 
be  ugly  about  it,  but  at  length  they  agreed  on  one  condi- 
tion, they  should  be  rid  of  family  cares.    It  was  done — 


IN  CIVILIZATION'S  SERVICE  37 

the  woman  and  her  three  boys  moved  to  the  other  house, 
and  the  man  who  had  one  child  of  a  Saturday  night,  as  it 
were,  found  himself  possessed  of  four  on  Monday  fore- 
noon. Did  we  do  anything  to  purify  West  Holly  from 
this  splotch  on  our  reputation  as  a  moral,  law-abiding 
folks  ?  We  did  not.  We  grinned  and  passed  a  few  sassy 
remarks  and  let  it  go  at  that.  Some  said  they  guessed 
the  ins  and  outs  wasn't  rightly  understood,  and  probably 
all  parties  was  fully  justified ;  others  guessed  maybe  they 
went  to  the  county  seat  and  got  a  bill,  and  it  wasn't  any 
of  our  business  to  go  prying  round  to  find  out.  The 
women  one  and  all  stood  up  for  the  wives  for  the  reason 
that  they  was  neat  housekeepers.  I  believe  one  of  'em 
sozzled  her  kitchen  floor  every  day,  and  that  went  a  long 
ways  in  softening  public  opinion. 

"Mr.  Natupski  maybe  has  a  good  excuse,  only  we 
haven't  asked  him  to  give  it.  Perhaps  he  heard  a  while 
back  that  his  wife  in  the  old  country  was  dead  or  going 
to  be  married  again.  He  certainly  has  done  his  full  duty 
in  one  particular,  and  so's  she.  They  took  that  little  baby 
and  kept  it  to  home  where  it's  no  expense  or  trouble  to 
the  town;  though  I  have  heard  of  married  men — fore- 
handed, too — leaving  deluded  girls  and  their  offspring  to 
come  on  the  town." 

"What  about  the  deceived  young  wife?"  put  in  Mr. 
Bowes,  sententiously.  M  It  seems  to  me  something  should 
be  done  for  her." 

"  She's  done  it  for  herself,  I  hear,"  replied  Slocumb. 
"  She  was  married  to  Nicholas  Kovinski  this  afternoon. 
He's  got  a  good  paying  job  hauling  school  children  from 
Holly  Centre.     Recollect,  he  took  Natupski's  horse." 

"  This  case  seems  to  have  run  to  seed,"   observed 


38  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

Bowes.  "  The  defense  has  choked  the  prosecution  silent. 
As  the  lanterns  are  burning  out,  I  propose  we  go  home." 

Abner  intended  to  walk,  but  accepted  a  lift  in  Solomon 
Russell's  buggy. 

"  It  beat  all  creation,  that  argument  you  put  up  for 
Natupski,"  piped  Russell,  as  they  drove  into  a  darkness 
accentuated  by  flashing  Northern  lights.  "  And  you'd 
likely  spent  considerable  time  beforehand  thinking  what 
to  say.  You  must  be  almighty  anxious  to  keep  the 
Polackers  next  door  to  you." 

"  Honest  to  man,"  said  Abner,  "  I  was  wishing  every 
gol'  darned  minute  that  the  town  had  done  as  it  threat- 
ened one  time,  and  bought  the  Judson  Buckland  shanty 
for  a  pest  house ! " 


Ill 

ABNER'S  TRY 

After  his  public  championship  it  was  generally  ex- 
pected that  Abner  Slocumb  would  "  do  something  to 
civilize  Natupski,"  but  Abner  seemed  inclined  rather  to 
talk  than  to  act.  Such  indeed  was  the  seeming  inclina- 
tion of  all  West  Holly.    For  instance: 

"  Cold-blooded  critters,  ain't  they  ?  "  said  the  hired 
man,  as  he  earned  $2.50  a  day  watching  for  the  sound 
of  the  six-o'clock  whistle  to  be  heard  in  the  Slocumb 
mowing. 

"Well,  I  do'  know.  Sometimes  I  think  they  be,  'n' 
sometimes  I  wonder  if  they  be,"  was  Abner's  well-quali- 
fied response.  His  wife  said  Abner  always  qualified 
everything,  even  the  cider  he  drank.  Sometimes  he  put 
water  into  it,  more  often  red  pepper. 

A  year  had  gone  by  since  the  great  events  recorded 
in  the  last  chapters,  but  the  Natupskis,  it  will  be  noticed, 
were  still  favorite  topics  of  conversation.  In  memory 
West  Holly  lived  as  a  peaceful  neighborhood  where 
nothing  happened  before  the  Natupskis.  Afterward 
when  any  two  were  gathered  together  it  was  no  stunt  for 
a  third  to  guess  the  subject  which  made  their  jaws  wag. 

"  Pretty  unfeeling  the  way  he  goes  on,"  commented 
the  hired  party,  tossing  the  thin  windrows,  and  leaving 
the  heavier  masses  of  hay  for  his  employer's  attention. 

"  Yes,  he  does  that,"   Abner  acknowledged,  adding, 

39 


4o  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

with  a  chuckle,  "  My  wife,  she  can't  see  through  'em. 
F'r  instance,  they  set  round  on  soap  boxes  in  the  house, 
but  he's  bought  my  hay-cutter  to  use  chopping  feed 
to  the  barn." 

"You  don't  say!" 

Abner  indicated  he  had  said.  The  mind  of  the  man, 
considerably  more  agile  than  his  right  arm,  leaped  to 
another  view  of  the  matter. 

"  How  you  cal'ate  to  get  along  without  it  ?  " 

"  Oh — well — I  can  chop  what  little  I  require  by  hand, 
I  guess.  'Twon't  be  convenient,  but  I  can  make  out.  I 
was  mighty  glad  to  complete  the  bargain,  for  I  needed 
money  the  worst  way.  My  wife  had  set  her  mind  on  a 
parlor  carpet.  She  said,  true  enough,  the  old  one  had 
been  down  most  ever  since  we  was  married.  A  woman's 
got  to  have  something  new  once  in  a  while  to  make  her 
contented,  y'know;  besides,  I  feel  she  earns  a  good  deal 
of  what  the  farm  produces." 

This  without  reflecting  that  for  a  good  many  years 
the  Slocumb  farm  had  not  produced  anything  worth 
naming  as  a  profit. 

"  Besides,"  continued  Abner,  with  the  lordly  reasoning 
which  was  rapidly  reducing  him  to  a  genteel  penury,  "  if 
I  feel  I  gotta  have  a  hay-cutter,  I  c'n  always  sell  a  cow 
and  buy  me  a  new  one.    Say,  what's  that  noise  ?  " 

"  I  b'n  sensing  it  some  time.  Seems  to  come  from  over 
Natupski  way." 

"  Well,  let  it  come.  We'll  let  it  alone.  I  started  in 
trying  to  be  a  good  neighbor  to  him,  but  when  he  de- 
stroyed that  blueb'ry  bush,  sez  I,  go  it,  there's  no  cure 
for  obstinacy,  any  more'n  f'r  red  hair,  'cept  dyeing." 

Nevertheless,  Abner  stopped  to  help  the  hired  man 


ABNER'S  TRY  41 

listen.  That  worthy  had,  of  course,  ardently  embraced 
the  first  opportunity  to  quit  work. 

"  Pretty  bumptious  noise.  Sounds  like  some  one  danc- 
ing a  devil's  breakdown." 

Abner's  response  was  to  stab  the  turf  with  his  fork — 
and  a  thunderstorm  impending — also  to  say,  "  I  presume 
he  brung  it  on  himself,  but  I  can't  help  that.  Be  you 
coming  or  be  you  not  ?  " 

"  I  be,"  said  the  hired  man,  "  soon's  I  get  a  fid  o' 
tobacco  in  my  cheek." 

A  weird  agglomeration  of  sounds  was  in  the  Natupski 
barn.  There  were  the  irregular  thuds  of  fierce  blows 
backed  by  the  energy  of  excitement;  mixed  with  growls, 
groans,  shrieks.  Peering  into  the  dusky  interior  the 
men  presently  sorted  out  the  noises.  The  shrieks  came 
from  a  cow-stall,  wherein  no  one  was  visible,  the  growls 
were  from  Kani  Natupski,  who  likewise  produced  the 
blows.  They  were  directed  at  the  hay-cutter,  and  deliv- 
ered with  an  ax.  Kani  was  barefooted,  his  khaki  trousers 
slopped  about  his  ankles,  and  his  black  shirt  was  rapidly 
working  loose  from  the  leather  strap  by  which  the  little 
man  held  himself  together.  With  every  blow  he  leaped 
into  the  air  and  came  down  on  the  unlucky  machine 
roaring. 

Although  the  contraption  had  been  bought  and  (well) 
paid  for,  Abner  Slocumb  felt  personally  hurt  at  the  way 
his  ex-property  was  being  treated.  Perhaps  a  man  had  a 
right  to  kill  his  own  hay-cutter,  but  at  least  the  deed 
shouldn't  be  consummated  without  a  word  of  warning. 

"  Here  you,  let  up,  let  up ! "  Abner  bawled,  advancing 
boldly.  "  If  the  durn  thing  won't  work,  let  me  at  it." 
He  thought  that  possibly  Natupski's  ire  had  been  raised 


42  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

by  a  failure  to  understand  the  mechanism.  Abner  was 
not  quite  unacquainted  with  a  form  of  revenge  known 
as  cutting  off  your  nose  to  spite  your  face. 

Natupski  paid  no  slightest  attention  to  the  remon- 
strance, but  from  the  manger  of  the  inhabited  stall  popped 
up  three  disheveled  heads — Mrs.  Natupski's,  little 
Wajeiceh's  and  'Statia's.  The  woman  merely  hissed, 
"  He  fierce !  he  fierce !  "  and  popped  her  face  back  under 
the  hay. 

Slocumb  turned  open-mouthed  to  his  hired  man,  who 
let  discretion  temper  his  valor  in  the  open  door. 

"Well,  what  d'ye  make  of  it?" 

"  Better  come  home-along.  Let  'em  squiggle  out's 
they  can." 

"I'll  be  durned  if  I  will.  Here,  what  you  doing?" 
he  roared  at  Natupski,  letting  out  his  voice  so  it  had  to 
be  heard  above  all  the  other  din. 

The  banging  ceased  for  a  moment,  then  Natupski, 
lowering  his  forehead  and  coming  forward  in  the  blindly 
butting  manner  of  a  temper-mad  man  who  sees  red,  made 
for  Slocumb,  yelling  a  Polish  word  which  neither  New 
Englander  identified  with  the  fearful  accusation  "  Mur- 
derer !  " — yet  such  it  was. 

Abner  could  not  believe  his  neighbor's  charge  was 
made  in  earnest,  it  was  only  when  the  ax  actually  began 
to  descend  that  he  realized  this  was  no  joke.  With  a 
jump  on  his  own  part  he  escaped,  while  the  hired  man 
gave  aid  by  tossing  a  stone  at  Natupski  and  hitting  the 
stall  where  lurked  the  woman  and  children.  Redoubled 
shrieks  from  that  direction  seemed  to  bewilder  Natupski; 
he  returned  to  the  hay-cutter. 

At  the  same  moment,  under  advantage  from  the  slight 


ABNER'S  TRY  43 

lull  in  superior  noise,  Slocumb  found  the  source  of  the 
groans.  While  his  father  killed  the  machine  in  the  dim 
perspective,  and  his  mother  hid  in  the  middle  distance, 
Stanislarni,  with  two  fingers  off,  peacefully  bled  to  death 
in  the  foreground. 

A  noble  picture  of  misplaced  vengeance,  pessimistic 
acquiescence  in  cruel  fate,  and  general  incompetence. 
Abner  Slocumb  might  not  know  the  first  thing  about 
making  his  business  pay,  but  such  a  crisis  as  this  put  him 
on  his  mettle,  and  he  felt  able  to  cope  withal. 

"  Git  me  a  slab  o'  shingle,"  he  called  to  the  hired  man 
— would  that  he  had  used  such  a  tone  of  command  in 
ordering  his  own  work  to  be  done — "  now  take  my  jack- 
knife  and  slit  off  the  tail  o'  my  shirt — it's  whiter'n  yours. 
Then  git  over  'n'  help  me  fix  a  turnyquit  to  stop  this  loss 
o'  blood." 

In  a  jiffy  the  child  was  out  of  danger,  though  Mrs. 
Natupski  crazily  tried  to  prevent  their  touching  Stanis- 
larni by  getting  in  their  way,  beating  her  breast,  clutch- 
ing their  shoulders,  and  otherwise  misconducting  herself. 
Such  behavior,  however,  was  not  quite  nonunderstand- 
able.  Slocumb  knew  she  was  begging  him  not  to  hurt 
the  kid.  His  Nancy  wouldn't  have  behaved  so,  but 
gritted  her  teeth  and  delivered  her  nearest  and  dearest 
up  to  tortures  unnamable  had  it  been  considered  correct; 
however,  there  weren't  many  womenfolks  in  this  world 
like  Nancy  Slocumb,  and  Abner  ought  to  know,  for  she 
told  him  so  many  times  a  year. 

Just  as  the  man  was  completing  his  "  first  aid  "  and 
Stanislarni  had  ceased  to  groan,  because  he  had  fainted 
away,  the  hay-cutter  collapsed  with  a  crash,  and  lay  a 
corpse,  one  might  say,  amidst  the  hayseed  on  the  well- 


44  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

polished  floor.  Kani  dropped  the  ax,  spit  on  his  blistered 
hands,  and  leaping  to  the  hired  man's  back  soon  reduced 
that  Samaritan  to  a  similar  ruin.  Slocumb  did  not  wait 
for  a  greater  effort  to  be  directed  his  way.  Snatching 
the  child  he  ran  out  of  the  barn  and  across  the  yard.  He 
was  followed  by  an  awful  jangle  of  consonants,  dried 
dung  and  other  missiles,  but  cleared  the  fence  unharmed 
and  broke  abruptly  on  the  sweet  peace  of  his  sitting- 
room,  where  Nancy  sat  sewing  crocheted  edging  on 
dish  towels  which  she  didn't  need. 

"  That  looks  like  a  Natupski  young  one,"  she  re- 
marked, controlling  a  great  excitement  with  the  aid  of  a 
frigid  demeanor. 

"  Tis." 

"  How'd  you  get  saddled  with  him  ?  And  where  you 
going?" 

"  I  guess,"  said  Abner,  "  I'm  going  to  jail,  if  that  hel- 
lion of  a  father  of  his  catches  me.  Hurry  up,  Nance. 
I  want  Dr.  Gibson  and  the  'phone  number  of  the  Mercy 
Hospital,  and  ten  yards  o'  clean  rag,  and  the  hoss  hitched 
up,  and  aromatic  spirits  ammony,  and  a  couple  o'  large 
pillars,  and  something  to  eat,  and  a  wet  sponge,  and  Dr. 
Chase's  recipe  book  What  to  Do  in  Case  of  Accident 
page." 

"  Anything  more  ?  "  asked  Nancy,  sarcastic-like,  and 
yet  moving  so  quickly  she  had  most  of  the  requirements 
assembled  even  as  they  were  named. 

"Yes.     A  clean  shirt." 

While  he  hauled  at  the  mangled  garment,  and  Nance 
bathed  the  boy's  face  from  the  odoriferous  bottle  in 
which  chunks  of  camphor  gum  had  floated  in  a  sea  of 
alcohol  ever  since  the  day  when  Nancy's  mother  had 


ABNER'S  TRY  45 

inherited  it  from  her  grandmother,  Abner  urged  his  wife 
to  look  out  and  see  if  the  hired  man  was  back. 

"  Back  from  whereabouts  ?  "  she  wanted  to  know. 

"  I  left  him  getting  killed  in  Natupski's  barn,"  re- 
turned Slocumb,  cool  as  a  cucumber.  **  The  critter's  done 
for  my  hay-cutter  and  took  my  hired  help  next.  I  wish 
to  goodness  he'd  let  my  belongings  be.  Darn,  ain't  that 
fool  ever  going  to  show  up  ?  " 

"  Here  he  comes,  round  the  road,  walking  as  if  he  was 
all  lamed  up." 

Abner  called  out  to  effect  that  he  wanted  the  horse 
harnessed,  but  the  man  glumly  declined  to  do  anything 
more  that  day  until  he'd  gone  home  and  had  "  her " 
put  some  "  arniky  "  on  his  back  and  legs.  A  loud  buzz 
coming  nearer  up  the  road  showed  up  presently  as  Dr. 
Gibson  in  his  buggy,  Nancy  having  been  successful  in 
catching  him  at  Blanchard  Bowes',  and  convincing  him 
that  the  Natupski  child  offered  a  more  pressing  case  than 
Mrs.  Bowes'  nervous  prostration  of  fifteen  years'  stand- 
ing. 

"  Good  enough,"  quoth  Abner,  when  the  physician  had 
complimented  him  on  his  "  first  aid  "  and  started  with  the 
child  to  meet  the  ambulance  already  on  its  ten-mile  run 
from  the  city  hospital.  He  breathed  a  long  sigh  of  re- 
lief, and  turned  to  adjust  the  gingham  tie  which  he  wore, 
even  at  haying  time,  under  the  turndown  collar  of  his 
neat  cotton  shirt.  "  Whatever  bad  marks  the  guardian 
angels  score  up  against  us  in  the  big  book  up  yon- 
der I  guess  will  be  partly  balanced  by  the  record  of 
this  afternoon.  We've  certainly  done  ourselves 
proud." 

"  Indeed !  "  ejaculated  Nancy.     "  I  sh'd  say  we  had ! 


46  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

And  to  prove  you're  right,  Abner  Slocumb,  here  comes 
the  rain  like  cats  'n'  dogs  'n'  pitchforks  tines  down." 

w  Thunder ! "  grinned  Abner,  not  meaning  the  ex- 
clamation should  refer  in  any  particular  way  to  the 
style  of  shower  just  arrived.  "  And  six  load  o'  my  best 
upland  grass  out  in  it." 

"  Well,  you're  a  smart  one,"  sneered  Nancy,  in  reality 
all  puffed  up  with  pride  in  a  husband  who  put  humanity's 
business  ahead  of  hay. 

"  Well,  it  goes  to  show  our  reward's  in  heaven." 

"  Seeing  's  'tain't  here,"  Nancy  snapped. 

Abner  picked  up  the  Springfield  Republican  and  his 
wife  retired  to  the  kitchen,  where  she  proceeded  to  knock 
up  something  specially  delectable,  elaborate,  and  expen- 
sive for  supper.    Presently  her  voice  was  heard. 

"Say,  Abner!" 

"  Spit  it  out." 

"  That  Polander  show  any  sense  o'  gratitude  for  what 
you  done  ?  " 

"  Pelted  me  with  cow  manure." 

Nancy's  eyes  flashed  scorn,  and  she  instantly  put  a 
double  portion  of  butter  into  what  she  was  making,  at 
the  same  time  deciding  to  frost  it.  Abner  certainly 
merited  some  reward ! 

Just  as  she  shut  the  oven  door  the  hired  man  came 
back,  smelling  like  a  front  yard  with  a  Balm  o'  Gilead 
tree  in  it. 

"  Thought  I  might's  well  make  it  a  full  day,"  he  ob- 
served, with  a  glance  at  the  clock.  He  added  that  he 
felt  pretty  pindling,  though,  and  not  more'n  able  to  hold 
the  cat. 

"  I  see  Natupski  's  I  came  along,"  he  continued.    "  Say, 


ABNER'S  TRY  47 

that  feller's  madder'n  tunket.  He  lets  me  out,  though. 
Seemed  to  be  right  down  sorry  for  lighting  onto  me  like 
he  did.    But  he's  still  got  it  in  for  you,  Slocumb." 

Abner  rustled  his  paper,  to  get  at  Sam  Bowies'  real 
opinions,  and  remarked  he  wasn't  going  around  looking 
for  thanks. 

"  It's  worser'n  that.  I  listened  to  his  jargon  quite  a 
while,  and  got  it  conjured  out  finally  that  he  blames  you 
for  the  whole  business.  Seems  to  think  if  you  hadn't 
sold  him  the  cutter  he'd  have  his  young  one  now,  good's 
new." 

"  Great  reasoning,"  commented  Nancy.  She  didn't 
see  it  was  about  as  logical  as  hers  had  been  when  she 
accused  a  saloon  in  Hamson  of  sending  forth  her 
nephew  in  such  a  state  that  he  fell  asleep  on  the  railroad 
track. 

"  'N'  what's  more,  he's  a-lotting  on  doing  you  some 
harm,  I  surmise,"  the  man  went  on.  "  I  left  him  turn- 
ing the  grindstone  for  his  ax,  and  I  wouldn't  wonder  if 
your  young  peach  trees  suffered  'fore  sunup." 

11  Oh,  shut  up ! "  yelled  Abner,  exasperated  by  this 
constant  reiteration  of  annoyance.  "  Don't  give  me 
none  of  your  surmises.  The  watermelons  you  worry 
about  never  get  stole." 

Brave  words,  spoken  to  due  effect;  yet  the  warning 
was  Abner's  first  thought  as  he  wakened  next  morning 
when  the  dawn  was  hinting  at  its  arrival,  and  early  birds 
began  to  remind  others  not  quite  so  early  of  that  doomed 
worm.  Some  one  was  about  at  Natupski's  barn,  and 
Abner  trembled  a  moment  for  his  trees.  He  hoped 
Natupski  wasn't  going  to  prove  that  sort  of  a  fellow. 
The  Slocumbs  had  lived  on  this  side  of  the  mountain 


48  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

for  half  a  dozen  generations,  always  taking  pride  in 
getting  along  with  their  neighbors.  Sometimes  one 
had  to  eat  considerable  humble  pie,  but  'twas  generally 
worth  it.  Abner  didn't  think  much  of  neighborhood 
quarrels.  You  began  with  a  line  fence,  and  whichever 
was  in  the  right  as  likely  as  not  got  the  worst  of  it  in  the 
end.  What  if  Natupski  did  hack  into  a  tree  or  so?  Best 
set  it  down  to  some  varmint  and  let  it  go  at  that.  If 
you  took  the  law  on  him  you'd  be  forever  riding  over 
to  the  county  town,  wasting  money  on  lawyers,  and  in 
the  end  he'd  likely  set  your  buildings  afire. 

So  Abner  turned  over,  stuffed  a  ruffled  pillow  slip  into 
his  ear,  and  was  rewarded  by  not  hearing  a  team  drive 
past  at  a  lively  clip.  It  came  back  while  the  Slocumbs 
were  at  breakfast.  Kani  Natupski  was  driving.  The 
hired  man  reported  he  had  been  to  the  Mercy  Hospital 
to  see  little  Stanislarni. 

"  Went  the  five  mile  to  the  depot,  caught  the  first 
trolley,  and  was  back  here  in  time  to  do  a  day's  work. 
My,  that  feller's  got  git  up  and  git !  " 

Abner  wished  some  other  fellows  had  ditto,  while 
Nancy  said  primly  she  was  pleased  (and  surprised)  the 
foreigner  had  as  much  interest  in  the  child  as  that  showed. 
It  was  her  unuttered  but  faithfully  held  belief  that  every 
alien  lived  in  hope  of  getting  his  offspring  into  an  insti- 
tution where,  if  possible,  it  would  be  marooned  for 
childhood.  Abner,  as  taxpayer,  was  helping  to  support 
goodness  only  knew  how  many ! 

The  next  morning  it  rained.  Abner  turned  easily  on 
his  feathers  as  he  heard  the  monotonous  drip  drip  on 
the  tin  roof  of  the  parlor  bay-window,  and  prepared  for 
another  nap.     It  happened  no  hay  was  down  to  worry 


ABNER'S  TRY  49 

about,  and  the  garden  was  spoiling  for  a  good  soaking. 
He'd  milk  late,  for  once,  and  tell  Nance  to  cook  up  a  lot 
of  flapjacks.  They  always  ate  well  at  rainy-day  break- 
fasts when  he  had  time  to  eat  them  in. 

A  team  drove  down  the  road  at  a  lively  clip.  He 
couldn't  believe  it,  even  when  he  woke  up  Nancy  to  help, 
but  that  Natupski  father  was  making  the  fifteen-mile 
journey  again,  just  for  the  sake  of  ten  minutes  beside 
the  cot  where  Stanislarni  luxuriated  in  such  cleanliness 
and  care  as  had  never  been  his  before. 

'*  The  dum  fool,"  bleated  Abner,  later  in  the  day,  as 
he  saw  the  drenched  man  driving  the  discouraged  horse 
along  the  swampy  road.  Kani  was  evidently  soaked  to 
the  skin,  and  his  hat,  a  cheap  derby,  had  disintegrated  to 
pulp,  besides  turning  most  of  its  dye  into  a  violet  hue 
that  mottled  his  cheeks.  As  for  the  animal,  it  was  plainly 
tired  out.  Such  unwonted  journeys,  in  addition  to  work 
in  the  hay  field  all  day,  would  ruin  anything  not  an 
'•  all-day  "  horse. 

The  sight  was  too  much  for  Abner's  philosophy. 
Dashing  his  knife  into  a  sea  of  syrup,  he  opened  the 
door  and  begged  Natupski  to  come  in  and  have  some 
breakfast. 

"Jest  to  show  I  don't  bear  malice — I  mean,  you  don't. 
It's  all  ready  'n'  waiting.  Grub,  you  know,  Natupski, 
victuals — eatings — whatever  you  call  it.  Come  along. 
Do  come  along." 

And  he  yelled  to  Nancy  to  set  the  griddle  back  and  fry 
another  mess  of  cakes. 

The  sole  response  of  Natupski  was  a  whip  cut.  It  was 
sent  Slocumb  way,  and  accompanied  by  the  objectionable 
word  which  Abner  now  understood  meant  something 


5o  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

akin  to  "  murderer."  Then  another  cut  sent  the  jaded 
horse  on  a  last  spurt. 

Nancy  laughed,  with  a  couple  of  foolish  tears  in  her 
eyes.  "  Now  I  guess  you  will  leave  him  alone,"  she 
remarked.  "  Here,  don't  fill  up  too  much  on  flapjacks. 
I'm  going  to  open  a  jar  o'  the  new  currant  jell  to  see 
what  it's  like." 

Of  course,  they  said,  he  wouldn't  go  next  morning, 
which  promised  to  be  hot  and  a  great  hay  day;  but  he 
did.  When  he  came  up  the  road  in  the  blazing  sun,  nod- 
ding from  want  of  sleep,  while  his  sweat-flecked  horse 
hung  its  dejected  head  and  limped,  one  hardly  knew 
which  to  pity  most. 

Nancy,  one  mass  of  nerves,  made  a  long  step  to  the 
'phone.  Abner  understood.  She  felt  the  fear  that  was 
agitating  him — that  the  child  might  be  on  the  dangerous 
list.  While  Central  got  the  number,  he  fled  to  bovine 
society.  She'd  give  him  the  news  in  a  lump.  He  guessed 
he  could  stand  it  better  so. 

She  stumbled  over  the  words,  and  he  believed  the 
worst,  but  it  was  only  dander  getting  up. 

"  They  say — they  say  the  boy's  getting  along  splendid. 
No  complications  nor  nothing.  Got  the  appetite  of  a 
little  pig,  and  has  a  great  time  jiggling  toys  with  his 
well  hand.  They've  just  give  him  some  barley  sugar  to 
pacify  him  for  taking  away  a  mess  o'  mouldy  stodge  his 
pa  brung  him." 

"  There's  no — fear  o'  mortification  ?  "  muttered  Abner, 
absent-mindedly  offering  an  astonished  calf  the  measure 
of  oats  intended  for  the  horse. 

"  Nary  bit." 

A  pause,  then,  "  Pity  he  wouldn't  let  well  enough  alone, 


ABNER'S  TRY  51 

'thout  getting  his  betters  all  work  up,"  she  offered,  and 
flounced  into  the  house. 

But  Natupski  wouldn't,  and  by  the  end  of  a  week  all 
that  part  of  West  Holly  was  on  edge.  The  wires,  once 
alive  with  reports  about  the  price  of  early  potatoes  or 
late  strawberries,  Mrs.  Perkins'  condition  and  the  best 
food  for  orphaned  infancy,  now  buzzed  mainly  for 
Natupski.  Central  could  scarcely  find  an  unbusy  moment 
in  which  to  unburden  herself  of  the  daily  weather.  No- 
body seemed  to  care  about  the  barometer  and  areas  of 
moisture  could  be  as  stationary  as  they  pleased  without 
rousing  remonstrance.  It  was  only,  "  Hello — say,  the 
hoss  fell  twice  going  by  my  place.  We  renced  out  his 
mouth  with  cool  spring  water  and  he  moved  along  after 
a  while,  but  I  doubt  if  he  ever  manages  it  again.  The 
man  ?    Oh,  the  man's  all  in." 

Or  perhaps  a  message  such  as  this  went  from  house 
to  house :  "  Say,  you  know  the  Polander  lives  t'other 
side  the  mountain  ?  Well,  watch  good,  and  when  you  see 
he  don't  go  by,  call  me  up  and  I'll  go  out  and  look  after 
him.  He's  more  dead  'n  alive  for  want  o'  rest  and 
liable  to  fall  in  his  tracks  any  minute." 

Kind  women  stood  by  picket  fences  with  perspiring 
jugs  of  sweetened  water,  which  Kani  did  not  refuse. 
Children  offered  corncob  dolls  and  well-thumbed  picture- 
books,  for  the  father  to  take  to  the  little  boy  in  the 
hospital.  The  father  appeared  grateful,  but  nearly  al- 
ways he  forgot  to  give  the  presents  to  Stanislarni.  His 
energy  was  so  intensely  concentrated  on  getting  to  that 
bedside  each  day,  that  he  was  worse  than  a  log  when 
he  got  there.  Once  he  began  to  scold  the  boy  for  not 
recovering  more  quickly,  so  as  to  be  on  the  farm  helping 


52  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

papa  by  turning  the  grindstone,  treading  hay,  raking 
after,  weeding  the  garden,  throwing  down  straw  from  the 
high  beams,  and  performing  other  trifles  of  labor  which 
unAmericanized  Poland  held  fit  for  five  years.  There 
was  a  dreadful  scene,  in  the  midst  of  which  Kani  was 
turned  out  of  the  ward,  and  the  nurses  confided  to  one 
another  a  wish  that  he  would  now  leave  the  kid  to  get 
well  in  peace. 

Vain  hope.  He  shambled  in  next  morning,  but  slightly 
improved  in  temper  and  appearance.  Blanchard  Bowes 
had  started  what  was  presently  to  be  a  style  in  West 
Holly,  volunteering  the  use  of  a  fresh  horse  to  take 
Natupski  from  his  house  to  the  station,  while  the  jaded 
one  recuperated  in  a  roomy  box  stall.  After  that  the 
journeys  were  made  with  more  comfort,  though  the  man 
himself  showed  the  results  of  rising  at  3  a.m.,  after  a 
long  evening  mowing  by  moonlight. 

The  chief  sufferer  was  Abner  Slocumb,  who  got  even 
less  sleep  than  Natupski.  He  had  taken  to  walking  the 
floor  nights,  because  the  state  of  things  got  on  his  nerves, 
and  Nancy  didn't  know  whether  to  give  him  another  dose 
of  the  spring's  sulphur  and  'lasses,  or  to  mix  an  infusion 
of  wild  cherry  bark  with  his  cider. 

It  did  not  help  Abner  toward  tranquillity  that  most  of 
the  neighbors  seemed  convinced  he  was  somehow  to 
blame  for  the  loss  of  Stanislarni's  fingers.  Natupski's 
description  of  the  affair,  in  a  language  largely  not  under- 
stood by  his  hearers,  was  responsible  for  this  impression. 
The  little  Polander  had  got  it  in  for  Abner,  and,  one 
couldn't  believe,  not  without  reason ! 

Nancy  used  to  slip  into  the  hen-house  and  talk  to  the 
chickens.    She  told  them  that  what  she  mainly  abhorred 


ABNER'S  TRY  53 

was  the  utter  uselessness  of  it  all.  There  no  need  to 
have  been  an  accident,  to  begin  with,  if  the  Natupskis 
had  any  sense.  Who  ever  heard  of  a  five-year-old  child 
let  meddle  with  a  hay-cutter?  And  then  if  your  young 
one  did  get  hurt  why  send  good  money  after  bad  by 
destroying  property?  Above  all,  what  did  possess  the 
ijit  that  was  willing  to  let  the  little  tyke  lie  on  the  barn 
floor  and  die,  to  go  every  mortal  day  fifteen  mile  to  look 
at  him?  That  was  the  most  useless  performance  of  all. 
The  boy  was  doing  fine;  and  yet  a  fool  man  had  to  frazzle 
himself,  kill  a  horse,  and  maul  the  town  out  of  plumb 
when  he'd  be  better  employed  tending  to  his  summer 
work  like  a  sane  being.  Nancy  believed  in  keeping  emo- 
tions on  a  taut  line  of  practical  result;  she  loved  Abner 
to  death,  but  if  he  died  tomorrow  there  would  be  a  great 
feeling  of  satisfaction  in  having  made  over  the  pillow- 
ticks  in  the  spring,  and  she  would  be  quite  capable  of 
quelling  her  grief  sufficiently  to  knock  up  plenty  of  flour 
victuals  for  the  funeral. 

With  the  passing  of  the  last  of  the  six  weeks,  West 
Holly's  interest  in  Natupski  began  to  wane.  People 
wondered  how  much  longer  they  would  be  expected  to 
furnish  horses  to  haul  his  good-for-nothing  carcass  to 
the  trolley?  Stanislarni  was  reported  as  up  and  larking 
about  the  corridors.  He  had  kicked  a  nurse  who  objected 
to  being  bawled  at  in  evil-sounding  Polish  every  time  her 
apron  tickled  the  boy.  She  couldn't  believe  it  a  word 
of  endearment.  It  sounded  something  quite  different. 
Anyway,  Miss  O'Brien  was  down  on  all  these  foreigners, 
having  the  true  pride  in  her  native  America  of  an  adap- 
tive girl  three  generations  from  ancestors  who  had 
"  plenty  Gaelic  "  and  a  scarcity  of  anything  else. 


54  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

There  came  an  evening  when  Natupski,  it  was  under- 
stood, was  up  a  tree.  No  one  offered  to  take  him  to  the 
car  next  morning.  Even  when  he  called  and  looked 
wistful  at  their  back  doors  they  did  not  melt.  Blanchard 
Bowes  was  cutting  alfalfa.  Hiram  Farrar  murmured 
something  about  cowpeas.  The  poor  little  man,  with  his 
usual  waste  of  effort,  trotted  as  many  miles  about  the 
neighborhood  as  he  was  trying  to  save  himself,  and  after 
all  got  no  horse.  Lashing  his  own  legs  with  the  whip 
he  carried,  perhaps  with  a  view  to  keeping  himself  from 
going  to  sleep  standing  up,  Natupski  kicked  open  the 
Slocumb  gate  and  stamped  his  way  across  the  piazza. 

Consternation  reigned  in  that  establishment.  The 
hired  man  panted  in  at  another  door,  giving  it  as  his 
opinion  that  the  Polisher  had  come  to  lick  Abner.  This 
was  delivered  in  an  excited  whisper,  but  Nancy  spoke 
her  mind  audibly. 

"  If  you,  Abner  Slocumb,  demean  yourself  so  far's  to 
talk  to  him  you're  a  bigger  fool  than  I  take  you  to  be," 
she  said. 

Then  she  went  on  putting  nutcakes  into  a  pail.  It 
was  their  wedding  anniversary  tomorrow  and  they  al- 
ways celebrated  it  by  going  off  somewheres.  This  time, 
luckily,  the  Giffordville  Fair  was  opening  just  in  time. 
They'd  drive  over,  starting  before  light,  and  to  save 
money — for  Nancy,  when  on  pleasure  bent,  was  like 
John  Gilpin's  wife  in  having  a  frugal  mind — she  had 
manufactured  a  magnificent  loaf  of  cake  that  was  going 
to  get  her  through  the  gate  on  an  Exhibitor's  ticket — 
besides,  as  likely  as  not,  taking  a  prize  that  would  pay 
for  baiting  the  horse  and  all. 

The  little  man  stood  and  knocked  with  the  whip  butt 


ABNER'S  TRY  55 

for  some  time.  He  could  hear  steppings  about  within, 
but  no  one  seemed  disposed  to  answer.  Finally  he  stum- 
bled away. 

"  By  gum,"  said  the  hired  man,  "  he's  got  cheek. 
Ain't  going  home,  but  right  out  to  the  barn." 

Abner  felt  it  necessary  to  follow.  The  two  con- 
fronted each  other  in  the  growing  twilight  of  the  horse 
stall. 

"  Looky  here,"  remonstrated  the  New  Englander, 
"don't  you  think  you're  getting  pretty  bunkum?  This 
barn  don't  go  with  the  Judson  Buckland  place,  you 
know." 

Of  course  the  sarcasm  was  thrown  away.  Natupski 
had  an  eye  for  the  horse  and  nothing  else.  He  tried 
brazenly  to  get  by  Abner's  bulky  form  and  disturb  the 
peace  of  that  splendid  animal  that  stood  calmly  munch- 
ing bits  of  its  bed,  while  careful  to  disturb  neither  the 
cat  that  rested  on  the  natural  saddle  of  its  back,  nor 
the  hen  that  had  chosen  to  hatch  a  belated  brood  in  the 
manger. 

"  Him,"  said  Natupski,  briefly,  but  with  assurance, 
"  Me  got  to  have  him." 

"  Well,  you  won't,  and  that's  flat.  I've  a  use  for  my 
own  hoss  as  it  happens,  but  if  'twas  otherwise " 

Natupski,  calm  as  if  eating  apples,  began  to  pick  up 
portions  of  the  harness  which  hung  by  the  stable  en- 
trance. 

"  Here,  you !  Put  that  headstall  where  you  found  it ! 
I  tell  you  this  hoss  is  going  to  haul  me  and  my  wife 
to  Giffordville  cattle  show  tomorrow.  And  even  if 
'twasn't " 

Suddenly  an  idea  of  being  refused  his  boon  filtered 


56  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

into  Natupski's  brain.  He  dropped  the  bits  of  leather, 
and  stood  like  a  child  whose  snow  house  has  suddenly 
collapsed  in  a  February  thaw — a  child  so  young  he  can't 
realize  ice  won't  last  the  year  through.  The  wildness  of 
his  red-rimmed  eyes,  bloodshot  from  loss  of  sleep,  sought 
the  top  of  the  barn,  where  the  light  of  the  afterglow 
penetrated  from  a  great  latticed  cupola,  and  then  his 
gaze  turned  out  of  doors.  Mentally,  it  is  to  be  presumed, 
he  went  again  the  rounds  of  the  inhospitable  neighbor- 
hood, whence  his  feet  had  taken  him  to  Slocumb's  last. 
Perhaps  there  was  some  natural  pride  in  the  man,  per- 
haps he  had  not  wanted  to  ask  this  favor  from  one  whom 
he  had  elected  should  be  an  enemy.  He  had  forced  him- 
self to  forgive  Slocumb.  He  acted  as  one  who  had  not 
reckoned  on  refusal.  All  his  energy  had  been  concen- 
trated in  forgiveness,  he  had  none  left  to  use  in  pleading. 
He  went  all  to  pieces,  fell  on  his  knees,  blubbered,  tried  to 
clasp  Abner's  hand  as  that  of  a  patron,  said  things  he 
had  never  thought  to  say  in  America,  where  he  had 
understood  all  were  equal. 

Abner  had  been  offended  at  his  effrontery,  he  was 
disgusted  at  seeing  the  man  play  baby. 

"  I  wouldn't  lend  ye  my  hoss  if  he  was  twins,"  he 
roared.    "  Git  up  and  git  out." 

A  little  flash  of  the  old  anger  sent  Natupski  off  shak- 
ing his  fist. 

Abner  went  into  the  house. 

"  Of  course  he  didn't  get  what  he  come  after?  "  asked 
Nancy. 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Abner. 

He  did  not  walk  the  floor  that  night,  but  hopped  into 
bed  feeling  firm  and  cool,  as  when  a  boy  he  would  dive 


ABNER'S  TRY  57 

deeper  than  any  other  in  the  old  swimming-pool.  He 
thought  he  was  going  to  have  a  great  night  for  sleep,  and 
start  fresh  as  a  daisy  for  the  fair.  His  mind  was  pretty 
easy — the  interest  on  the  mortgage  didn't  fall  due  until 
the  crops  would  be  in,  and  perhaps  they  would  all  do 
better  than  he  was  afraid  they  wouldn't.  The  sheets 
felt  grateful  to  his  tired  limbs.  He  always  did  enjoy  a 
cricket's  chirping.  Nance's  heavy  breathing  ought  to 
send  one  off  directly.  Only — he  couldn't  sleep.  His 
thoughts  would  wander  right  away  from  his  own  vine- 
embowered  dwelling  to  that  one  over  the  way,  whence  all 
leafage  had  been  rudely  swept.  He  could  not  think  of 
his  own  bedroom,  with  its  matted  floor,  drawn-in  rug, 
cretonne  upholstered  shirtwaist  box  and  bureau  covered 
with  crocheted  mats  over  pink  silesia.  It  went  to 
Natupski's,  that  vagrant  mind;  it  saw  the  rooms 
which  hadn't  been  swept  out  since  the  Natupskis 
moved  in,  where  the  moonbeams  struggled  through 
windows  well  curtained  by  films  of  dirt,  and  where 
a  large  family  lived  without  any  of  the  things  he 
and  Nancy  thought  necessary  for  two.  He  remembered 
Nancy  observing  once  that  she  didn't  suppose,  judging 
from  the  Natupskis,  there  was  such  a  thing  as  a  pin- 
cushion in  Poland.  This  seemed  to  him  hardly  likely  to 
be  true,  since  there  must  be  rich  folks  in  that  far-off 
land,  who  lived  decently.  He  supposed  what  strained 
out  into  America  was  the  dregs.  But  to  think  of  any 
folks  without  a  pincushion,  or  a  pipe-rack,  or  a  silk  string 
to  hang  neckties  on!  Maybe  West  Holly  folks  were 
victims  of  "  house  pride,"  but  they  treated  by  and  large 
alike.  Even  that  lady  pauper,  Mrs.  Anderson,  had  got 
the  town  fathers  to  subscribe  to  a  fashion  paper  for  her ! 


58  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

What  he  anticipated — a  noise.  Nancy  stirred  quickly, 
too.  Perhaps  she  had  not  been  as  fast  asleep  as  she  had 
pretended.  Abner  leaped  to  the  window,  softly  withdrew 
the  screen,  and  leaned  afar  out.  He  could  hear  the  bed 
creak  as  Nancy  sat  up.  Ten  minutes  went  by,  then  Abner 
replaced  the  screen  and  slipped  under  the  counter- 
pane. 

"  Any  one  to  the  barn  ?  "  Nancy  whispered. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Abner.  "  All's  tight  as  a  drum  that- 
a-way." 

She  did  go  to  sleep  then,  and  he  was  able  to  steal  out 
unnoticed  in  the  deepest  darkness  of  the  second  morning 
hour.  He  did  not  light  the  lantern  until  safely  hidden 
by  the  barn  door.  Horse,  cat,  and  hen  were  alike  amazed 
at  the  disturbance.  He  sent  pussy  hunting  and  led  the 
horse  softly  into  the  barn  floor,  where  he  tackled.  A 
few  armfuls  of  hay  spread  on  the  gravel  enabled  him  to 
pass  to  the  road  in  something  near  absolute  silence. 

"  Nance  don't  know  it,"  he  sniggered,  "  but  a  durn 
good  midnight  hoss  thief  was  sp'iled  in  making  me.  It's 
what  I  was  cut  out  for." 

A  dim  light  flickered  in  Natupski's  ell.  You  couldn't 
call  any  room  there  either  kitchen  or  parlor,  for  there 
was  a  bed  in  the  apartment  holding  the  cook-stove,  and 
the  coarse  lace  curtains  stretched  across  the  foreroom 
windows  hid  only  an  accumulation  of  junk.  Mrs. 
Natupski  sat  out  of  doors.  Wajeiceh  and  'Statia  were 
doing  something  dangerous  in  which  themselves,  the  cat, 
and  a  butcher-knife  were  involved.  Mr.  Natupski  was 
not  to  be  seen. 

"Where's  he?"  asked  Abner,  wondering  if  he  were 
talking  to  a  blank  wall. 


ABNER'S  TRY  59 

The  woman  got  up  and  pointed  down  the  road.  Then 
she  walked  a  few  steps,  nodded  solemnly,  and  sat  down. 
Abner  understood.  The  poor  creature  had  started  on  a 
desperate  tramp.  But  perhaps  one  might  catch  up  with 
him  yet.  There  was  a  nickel  clock  on  the  mantel ;  he  took 
it  to  the  woman  and  she  pointed  to  midnight.  Kani 
would  be  almost  at  the  depot  by  now — unless  he  had 
fallen  in  a  faint.  Quite  forgetting  Nance  and  the  wed- 
ding day,  Abner  got  into  his  own  buggy  and  shook  the 
reins.  As  he  drove,  with  one  leg  hanging  out,  in  the 
approved  fashion  of  West  Holly,  he  wondered  how  he 
could  make  it  plain  to  Natupski  that  he  bore  no  grudge — 
not  even  for  last  night's  untold  injuries — and  that  this 
softening  was  not  brought  about  through  fear,  but  be- 
cause after  all  a  good  American,  raised  in  a  clean  home 
and  educated  nine  winter  terms  in  the  red  schoolhouse, 
felt  he  owed  more  than  common  kindness  to  an  alien 
minus  such  advantages.  Natupski  wasn't  manly,  nor 
sensible,  but  maybe  if  neighbored  right  such  qualities 
could  be  driven  into  him. 

Due  to  overmuch  prodding  of  bushy  roadsides,  Abner 
arrived  at  the  depot  after  the  first  trolley  had  left.  The 
sun  was  up  and  the  day  gave  indications  of  being  hotter 
than  blixon.  The  depot  always  was  a  stuffy,  uncom- 
fortable place,  anyhow.  Shut  in  by  hills,  it  nestled  close 
to  the  river,  now  at  its  lowest,  gleaming  back  of  the 
paper  mill  like  a  tiny  silver  scarf  held  in  place  by  jutting 
jewels  of  rocks.  It  glistened  but  never  seemed  to  be 
getting  anywhere;  so  rapid  was  its  flow  that  no  wavelet 
was  visible.  Abner  had  his  fill  of  looking  at  it,  of  seeing 
the  hands  pour  forth  from  their  funny  little  double 
cottages  to  be  sucked  up  by  the  factory  door;  of  driving 


60  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

the  horse  from  one  bit  of  shade  to  another.  The  car  came 
back,  but  no  Natupski  got  out.  Abner  felt  puzzled. 
Could  the  chap  be  lying  up  there  on  the  road,  suffering, 
in  some  hideaway  place  he  had  missed?  In  spite  of  a 
yearning  stomach  he  waited  another  hour,  and  then  began 
the  weary  drive  back  to  where  Nance  would  wait  in  a 
worry  that  would  quickly  turn  to  a  real  mad  fit.  He 
didn't  blame  her,  either.  What  had  possessed  him  to  go 
and  spoil  the  whole  day  for  the  sake  of  a  miserable 
little  ungrateful  no-account  runt? 

It  was  the  utter  lack  of  any  gratitude  on  Natupski's 
part  that  galled  most.  Abner  didn't  hide  the  doings  of 
his  right  hand  from  his  left.  He  knew  he'd  been  a 
mighty  good  neighbor  to  Natupski,  right  from  the  start. 
He'd  made  no  mean  remarks  when  Mrs.  Buckland  sold 
to  Polanders,  and  he'd  jumped  in  quick  to  save  the  blue- 
berry bush.  And  mighty  few  men  would  let  a  lot  of 
good  upland  hay  go  to  ballyhack  to  try  and  argufy  with 
a  crazy  man.  What  had  he  got  for  it  ?  Only  abuse.  Not 
an  indication  the  miserable  Polander  sensed  any  thank- 
fulness whatsoever.  Yet  he  supposed  the  cardinal  virtues 
were  the  same  in  any  language. 

As  he  approached  his  own  dwelling  Abner  dismounted, 
to  let  the  horse  bury  its  nose  in  the  roadside  hogshead, 
which  kept  ever  full  of  sweet  water,  trickling  from  a 
far-away  spring  in  open  troughs  of  log. 

Who  was  this  dancing  along  the  wheel  tracks? 
Natupski — actually  Natupski.  And  beside  him  Stanis- 
larni,  in  all  the  glory  of  a  clean  face  and  hygienic  promise 
of  a  close  haircut,  principal  advantages  fetched  from  the 
hospital,  unless  one  counted  much  more  English  than 
his  parents  could  understand.    The  face  was  rapidly  being 


ABNER'S  TRY  61 

disfigured  by  large  chunks  of  pink  frosting  from  a 
hunk  of  cake  which  somehow  seemed  familiar  to 
Abner. 

A  team,  driving  off  in  the  opposite  direction,  showed 
how  father  and  son  had  made  the  journey.  Probably 
some  good-natured  hospital  doctor  had  been  the 
charioteer,  and  they  had  gone  Hamson  way. 

"See!  see!"  yelled  Natupski,  jerking  his  child  into 
the  air  by  the  leaping  exuberance  of  his  joy.  "  My  little 
Stanislarni  come  home!  My  little  Stanislarni  come 
home!" 

"  And  then,"  as  Abner  would  report  by  and  by,  "  if 
the  crazy  loon  didn't  up  and  kiss  me  in  two  places! " 

Slocumb  escaped  as  fast  as  possible  and  after  com- 
forting the  horse  with  oats  got  into  the  kitchen,  where 
Nancy,  smiling  as  a  basket  of  chips,  was  rapidly 
unpacking  luncheon  pails  and  reducing  the  pantry  to  a 
complete  forgetfulness  of  ever  having  been  disturbed 
for  an  impending  picnic. 

As  he  suspected,  she  had  cut  the  cake. 

"  Natupski's  boy's  home,"  she  said,  snippy-like. 

"  As  if  I  didn't  know  it.  He's  led  me  a  pretty  dance. 
Got  my  hired  man  out  of  commission,  sp'iled  a  good 
mess  o'  hay,  ruined  my  reputation,  girdled  six  fine  peach 
trees,  and  made  us  miss  the  first  celebration  since  we 
was  married.  Still,  I'd  rather  have  his  ill-will  than 
his  gratitude.  Bussing  me  twice  in  the  public  high- 
way ! " 

"  I  didn't  know  about  the  trees,"  said  Nancy,  looking 
at  the  cake  as  if  she  wished  she  could  put  it  together 
again. 

"  I  didn't  intend  you  should,"  returned  Abner.    "  It's 


62  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

a  dead  secret  betwixt  me  and  him.  Done  last  night  when 
we'd  orter  been  asleep.  But  that  smacking — it  happened 
much  as  five  minutes  ago — take  down  the  receiver  quiet, 
Nance,  and  see  what  they're  saying  about  it  along  the 
line." 


IV 
TWO  OLD  BIRDS  ON  ONE  BOUGH 

Years  before  Kani  Natupski  knew  there  was  an 
America,  a  fortissimo  suite,  played  pianissimo,  sent 
sound  waves  through  West  Holly  from  the  old  Pinkney 
place,  next  door  to  what  would  ultimately  be  Natupski's 
(the  other  next-door,  not  Slocumb's). 

Ma'am  Pinkney  died  and  left  a  will,  which  satisfied 
neither  of  her  daughters. 

"  Cat's  foot !  "  exclaimed  Julia  Farrar,  she  that  was  a 
Pinkney.  "  I  should  think  mother  might  have  remem- 
bered me  with  something  worth  having,  as  I've  not  had 
to  be  supported  since  I  was  seventeen  and  married  Hiram 
Farrar." 

Julia  Farrar  was  given  all  the  Pinkney  land  abutting 
on  Farrar  acres. 

"  Mother  knew  what  she  was  after,  I  don't  doubt," 
observed  Juletta  Pinkney,  "  but  she  evidently  failed  to 
consider  that  my  youth  was  sacrificed  to  her  and  to 
father." 

Juletta  received  the  Pinkney  mansion  and  what  was 
left  of  the  land  with  Julia  Farrar' s  share  subtracted. 
This  was  the  worst  forty  acres. 

The  sisters  divided  the  personal  property. 

"Suffering  ages!"  remarked  Julia  Farrar.  "What 
under  the  sun  did  mother  mean  ?  Me  to  take  the  parlor 
sofa  and  you  to  keep  the  chairs !    You  to  have  two  vol- 

63 


64  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

umes  '  Pamela/  and  me  the  rest,  so  neither  of  us'll  ever 
be  acquaint  with  the  whole  story!  Mother  must  have 
been  a  doddering  ijit.    I  think  we  could  break  the  will." 

"  Mother,"  returned  Julia,  "  presumably  understood 
her  own  mind.  Is  there  anything  special  you  hanker 
after,  Julia?" 

"  I  don't  care  a  dutch  curse,"  cried  Julia  Farrar,  "  for 
anything  but  that  Rising  Sun  quilt  with  all  the  pieces  of 
my  school  dresses  in  it.  And  the  pink  luster  set.  I'd 
just  as  soon  call  it  all  off  for  the  pink  luster  set." 

"  You  may  have  the  quilt  of  your  selection,"  said 
Juletta,  "  and  I  will  balance  it  by  one  of  the  hand-woven 
blankets.  As  far  as  the  chiny  goes,  I  presume  mother 
had  it  in  her  mind  when  she  said  things  was  to  be 
divided." 

"  Good  Lord  and  Tom  Malindy,"  Julia  Farrar  re- 
sponded. "  Do  you  set  there  in  that  fiddle-backed  chair 
and  tell  me  to  my  face  our  mother  didn't  suppose  one  or 
t'other  of  us  would  have  the  full  set?  Juletta  Pinkney, 
you  act  like  a  natural-born  fool,  same  as  you  did  when 
you  wouldn't  hear  to  Hiram  Farrar  and  left  him  for  me. 
Looks  likely  mother  believed  I'd  be  satisfied  to  accept 
six  cups  and  sassers  and  leave  the  same  for  you." 

"  Certainly  not,"  asserted  Julia.  "  Mother  wished  us 
to  divide  them.  Will  you  take  the  cups  or  the  saucers? 
It  is  quite  immaterial  to  me  which  I  keep." 

War  was  declared  from  that  moment,  a  bitter  war, 
which  kept  West  Holly  all  wrought  up.  For  virulence 
no  quarrel  equals  a  family  quarrel;  and  Julia  Farrar, 
after  accepting  the  cups,  was  able  to  exasperate  Juletta 
with  much  better  success  than  she  could  have  employed 
with  any  mere  acquaintance. 


TWO  OLD  BIRDS  ON  ONE  BOUGH  65 

West  Holly,  with  the  usual  neighborhood  propensity 
to  arrange  (and  well  arrange)  the  affairs  of  other  people, 
held  that  Juletta  was  to  be  envied.  She  had  a  house  and 
forty  acres.  It  would  cost  her  nothing  to  live — abso- 
lutely nothing!  A  cup  of  tea  and  a  piece  of  bread  would 
make  a  meal  for  an  old  maid.  They  wouldn't  expect  her 
to  even  set  the  table,  but  just  take  a  bite  standing  in  the 
pantry.  She  would  be  well  able  to  have  a  black  silk 
every  five  years,  shingle  the  house,  which  had  needed  it 
since  the  Civil  War,  and  subscribe  liberally  to  the  Metho- 
dist denomination. 

But  Juletta  farmed  according  to  precedent,  which  put 
always  the  same  crop  in  the  same  place.  If  the  potato 
patch  did  not  yield  a  sufficiency  of  potatoes  she  bought 
more,  but  planted  nothing  extra  another  year.  It  was 
the  manner  of  the  Pinkneys,  and  they  had  been  growing 
poorer  for  six  generations,  ever  since  the  first  Pinkney 
came  over  the  Bay  Path  from  Dorchester  and  secured 
one  of  those  preposterous  grants,  ten  miles  long  and  half 
a  mile  broad,  by  which  Holly  was  divided  when  it  was 
14  Outward  Commons." 

Quintus  Pinkney,  of  the  fifth  generation,  had  fully 
established  the  family  ruin  by  an  attempt  to  redeem  the 
Pinkney  acres.  He  died  land  poor,  bequeathing  Sextus 
a  bewildering  variety  of  lawsuits. 

Now  there  was  only  Juletta,  who  said  it  seemed  as  if 
all  nature  and  the  fraternity  of  hired  men  were  in  league 
against  one  poor  old  maid.  Abner  Slocumb  informed 
her  she  had  no  monopoly  on  the  attentions  of  potato  bugs, 
tomato  worms,  and  men  afflicted  with  inertia  and  gross 
and  confirmed  habits  of  intoxication. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Juletta,  "  how  the  women  managed 


66  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

in  the  old  times?  My  maternal  grandmother  was  left 
alone  when  her  husband  went  to  the  French  and  Indian 
wars.  On  his  return  he  found  she  had  settled  the  mort- 
gage, while  the  farm  was  twice  the  bigness  of  what  he 
had  left." 

Juletta  did  not  consider  that  her  maternal  grandmother 
went  dressed  in  one  gown,  probably  linsey-woolsey,  and 
was  up  early  and  down  late.  As  for  grandmother's 
house,  it  had  been  furnished  with  bare  necessities.  The 
pink  luster  was  after  her  day. 

Juletta  performed  no  outdoor  labor.  She  sat,  white- 
handed,  in  the  parlor,  covering  the  backs  of  old  en- 
velopes with  figures  proving  how  much  poorer  she  would 
be  after  she  had  paid  off  the  harvest  hands.  Then  she 
made  the  envelopes  into  squills,  being  economical,  if  not 
prudent. 

There  came  a  day  in  summer  when  Mrs.  Judson  Buck- 
land  jubilantly  hailed  her  spinster  neighbor. 

"  Glory  be !  "  she  shouted.     "  I've  sold  the  farm." 

Juletta  knew  she  had  wanted  to  sell  it  ever  since  the 
death  of  Judson  Buckland.  In  fact,  she  had  wanted  to 
sell  it  for  so  long  that  there  had  ceased  to  be  any  dis- 
quieting novelty  in  the  idea.  But  now  that  it  was  sold 
Juletta  shivered  with  apprehension.  She  felt  changes 
all  about.  Hints  had  been  in  the  air  some  time,  but  she 
had  tried  to  ignore  them.  Talk  about  trolleys  around 
the  mountain,  putting  green  hay  in  barns,  using  engines 
to  uproot  stumps,  rotating  crops,  curing  consumptives  on 
piazzas.  She  had  listened,  but  fixed  her  own  mind  against 
innovations.  She  determined  never  to  ride  on  electric 
cars  or  store  uncured  hay,  and  if  she  was  blessed  with 
weak  lungs  she  would  shut  herself  in  a  room  with  an 


TWO  OLD  BIRDS  ON  ONE  BOUGH  67 

airtight  stove  and  make  an  edifying  end  in  the  good 
old  fashion. 

But  a  Polish  family  next  door  was  making  the  new 
New  England  come  extremely  close ! 

"  You  don't  need  to  neighbor  with  'em,"  snapped  Mrs. 
Buckland,  who  could  not  have  forborne  going  to  tea 
with  a  cannibal,  had  one  happened  to  buy  near  her,  and 
"  I  guess  it  won't  ever  come  to  that,"  returned  Juletta, 
in  her  customary  mulish  mildness.  It  never  did.  Miss 
Pinkney  lived  almost  two  years  in  the  next  house  to  the 
Natupski  family  without  being  seen  by  any  of  that 
family.  This  was  possible  because  Juletta  seldom  went 
abroad,  not  caring  to  risk  meeting  Julia  Farrar.  She 
viewed  the  passing  from  a  pantry  window  shielded  with 
slats.  And  though  there  was  a  narrow  piazza  on  the 
south  side,  Juletta  never  sat  out.  The  Pinkneys  never 
had  sat  out. 

All  the  more  startling,  therefore,  was  the  unearthly 
yell  that  disturbed  Kani  Natupski  one  spring  morning, 
the  second  year  after  his  arrival  in  West  Holly,  when  he 
was  doing  violence  to  West  Holly  agricultural  traditions 
and  a  piece  of  ground.  The  yell  was  most  amazing  in 
that  it  did  not  come  from  any  part  of  his  own  domain. 
There  yells  were  common.  Marinki  yelled  at  the  chil- 
dren, Stanislarni  yelled  at  the  cow,  'Statia  and  Wajeiceh 
at  the  calves;  even  the  small  baby  yelled  at  the  cat,  and 
that  pampered  animal  meekly  obeyed  orders  and  stood 
still  to  have  its  tail  pulled. 

Yes,  there  was  a  small  baby,  and  its  arrival  had  been 
absolutely  devoid  of  excitement.  Kani,  recollecting  the 
birth  of  'Statia,  when  both  doctor  and  nurse  had  been 
called  in  attendance    on   Olka,   was  very  grateful  to 


68  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

Marinki  for  having  followed  him  from  Poland.  This, 
despite  the  disappointment  of  another  girl,  and  the  queer 
fact  that  Marinki  herself  seemed  proud  of  the  affair,  and 
would  call  the  little  one  by  her  own  name. 

Kani  could  not  dream,  nor  would  his  wife  tell,  that 
she  rejoiced  in  a  girl  because  she  hated  to  see  him  with 
the  wee  'Statia  in  his  arms.  She  intended  to  provide 
plenty  of  both  kinds  in  her  own  brood. 

But  this  yell  came  from  the  old  Pinkney  place,  where 
— when  had  a  yell  ever  come  from  the  old  Pinkney  place  ? 
Even  the  family  quarrel  had  been  conducted  in  ladylike 
tones,  and  after  sending  Julia  Farrar  the  cups  Juletta  had 
retired  to  an  upper  room  and  whimpered. 

On  this  May  morning  she  yelled,  right  in  her  own 
front  yard,  among  the  budding  peonies  and  fading  lilies 
of  the  valley.  Natupski  looked  over  the  fence.  A  little 
woman  with  white  hair  was  wringing  her  hands  as  if 
they  were  clothes  newly  washed.  Her  snowy  curls, 
which,  from  a  parting,  hung  on  either  side  of  her  face, 
swayed  against  the  two  pairs  of  spectacles  on  her  sharp 
little  nose.  The  slender  braid  of  hair  that  usually  mingled 
with  the  curls  until  it  went  to  join  the  "  done  up  "  sec- 
tion in  the  rear,  had  fretted  itself  loose,  and  made  a 
dissipated  appearance  in  the  sunshine,  being  customarily 
so  set  at  liberty  only  in  connection  with  a  night 
cap. 

"  What  matter  ?  "  asked  Natupski. 

Miss  Pinkney  closed  her  eyes,  whirled  three  times,  and 
pointed.  Her  index  finger  was  directed  right  over  the 
way,  where  the  bewildered  man  saw  a  robin  carrying 
straw. 

"  Hei  ?  "  he  grunted,  and  climbed  the   fence.     Miss 


TWO  OLD  BIRDS  ON  ONE  BOUGH  69 

Pinkney  shrieked,  "  Don't  look  at  the  door !  I  can't 
stand  it  if  you  look  at  the  door ! " 

Natupski  looked.  A  weird  fur  bundle  hung  on  the 
latch. 

"  Little  small  cats.    Your  little  small  cats,  missus  ?  " 

"Heavens,  no!     I'm  Miss  Pinkney!" 

This  explained  nothing  to  Kani  Natupski,  who  did 
not  know  that  every  Pinkney  came  into  the  world  a 
cat-hater.  He  had  lived  in  West  Holly  nearly  two  years, 
but  he  had  never  heard  about  Perry  Pinkney,  who  started 
West  in  '49,  with  a  bowie  knife,  a  pistol,  and  one  clean 
shirt,  but  came  home  in  consequence  of  being  put  into  a 
stage  coach  where  the  other  passenger  wore  a  coat  on 
which  a  cat  had  lain.  Natupski  merely  thought  it  proper 
to  make  a  closer  inspection  of  the  door's  adornment. 

"  He  dead,"  was  the  comment  conveyed  to  the  dis- 
tracted lady.  As  she  answered  nothing  beyond  a  gasp, 
he  went  on  to  ask,  "  You  want  him  ?  " 

"  No,  no !  Take  'em  away !  That  is,  don't  take  'em 
away  while  I  can  see  you  touch  'em.  I  can't  bear  to 
think  that  you  can  bear  to  touch  'em.    Ah !    Ah !  " 

Down  she  sank  under  the  old  cherry  tree  and  beat  her 
heels  in  frenzy,  until  this  brought  reminder  that  the 
tree  sheltered  a  great  ant  hill. 

West  Holly,  knowing  Juletta  Pinkney  only  by  her 
seventy-five  years  of  genteel  behavior,  would  never  have 
believed  she  knew  so  many  excited  woman  tricks  as  were 
displayed  that  morning  to  Kani  Natupski.  For  half  an 
hour  she  kept  him  jigging  back  and  forth  from  the  door 
where  hung  the  martyred  kittens,  to  his  own  fence. 

"  Take  'em,"  she  would  scream,  "  please  take  'em  and 
hide  'em,"  but  when  he  essayed  doing  so  she  decided  that 


70  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

the  very  idea  was  too  ghastly  for  contemplation.  The 
climax  was  reached  when  he  got  tired  of  bothering  with 
the  old  woman,  and  remembered  his  neglected  work.  So, 
"  Out  of  way! "  he  bawled,  and  pushing  her  toward  the 
Japanese  quince  bush,  went  over  and  untied  the  bunch 
of  fur.  Miss  Pinkney,  entirely  out  of  her  head  for  the 
moment,  flung  herself  at  him,  with  dreadful  conse- 
quences. Never,  while  life  remained,  would  she  forget 
the  shock  of  that  collision  with  the  filthy  man  and  the 
dead  animals.  She  tumbled  into  the  house  and  lived  the 
rest  of  the  day  on  camphor-soaked  lumps  of  sugar. 

The  sensation  lasted,  mingled  with  an  awful  shame. 
To  have  lost  her  dignity,  and  before  such  a  spectator! 
Juletta  Pinkney  came  to  hate  Kani  Natupski  more  than 
she  hated  her  sister  Julia  Farrar;  for  he  had  been  present 
when  she  went  mad,  while  Julia  Farrar  was  only  the 
probable  cause  of  the  madness.  Whenever  the  Natupskis 
came  into  their  yard  and  exchanged  remarks  in  their 
native  tongue,  Miss  Juletta  fancied  they  were  shouting 
abuse  at  her.  If  the  children  pelted  the  atmosphere  with 
gravel,  after  the  aimless  manner  of  children  who  play 
so  seldom  they  hardly  know  how  to  go  about  it,  she 
imagined  their  father  had  told  them  to  pepper  the  Pink- 
ney house.  That  the  neighbors  called  and  never  spoke 
about  cats  struck  her  as  a  suspicious  circumstance.  Of 
course  Julia  Farrar  would  have  told  what  she  intended 
doing,  and  Juletta  couldn't  imagine  that  chattering 
Polish  monkey  keeping  a  still  tongue,  either. 

Miss  Pinkney,  from  living  alone,  had  a  somewhat 
magnified  sense  of  her  own  importance  in  West  Holly. 
People  were  a  good  deal  more  concerned  about  the  long 
drouth  than  about  Juletta  Pinkney's  affairs.     Mr.  and 


TWO  OLD  BIRDS  ON  ONE  BOUGH  71 

Mrs.  Natupski  had  no  idea  why  she  gave  them  so  many 
black  looks.  They  now  saw  her  often,  because  she  used 
the  back  door,  which  was  on  their  side,  after  the  affair  of 
the  kittens  had  caused  the  South  door  to  seem  haunted. 

At  the  Pinkney  house  the  front  door  was  never  opened 
except  to  take  the  coffin  out. 

Juletta  used  to  appear  pretty  often  to  grind  pink  luster 
bits  into  condition  powder  for  chickens.  For  the  better 
affliction  of  Julia  Farrar,  Juletta  had  gone  to  baking 
pies  in  the  saucers.  Whenever  one  went  to  pieces  in  the 
oven  she  ground  the  remnants  into  powder,  lest  her 
sister  should  somehow  secure  the  pieces  and  restore  a 
saucer  by  sour  milk  cement  and  twenty-four  hours' 
boiling. 

It  was  rumored  that  every  time  Juletta  did  this,  Julia 
Farrar  went  out  and  smashed  a  cup  against  the  side  of 
the  barn.  It  seemed  an  incredible  story,  because  Julia 
Farrar  was  a  great  hand  to  keep  everything.  She  never 
wilfully  threw  away  so  much  as  an  old  hoopskirt.  She 
thought  as  like  as  not  they'd  come  round  again.  Still 
Sabrina  Perkins,  who  knew  everything,  stated  it  as  a 
"  positive  fact  "  that  when  two  saucers  alone  remained  to 
Juletta,  Julia  Farrar  had  just  a  couple  of  cups. 

On  the  1 2th  of  July  they  finished  haying  at  Juletta 
Pinkney's.  The  news  went  all  over  the  neighborhood 
that  they  finished  haying  at  Juletta  Pinkney's.  The  drouth 
had  made  the  crop  light,  and  then  it  had  been  decided 
that  the  upland  wouldn't  pay  for  cutting.  The  upland, 
which  had  filled  two  barns  and  left  enough  for  a  re- 
spectable stack  in  the  time  of  Quartus  Pinkney!  On 
the  same  day  Juletta  examined  her  bank-book,  after 
paying  the  men,  and  saw  her  balance  one  of  two  figures. 


72  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

On  the  mahogany  before  her  lay  a  notice  from  the  bank 
in  Hamson,  calling  attention  to  interest  considerably 
overdue  on  the  mortgage. 

Miss  Pinkney  sighed  gently,  but  did  not  lose  her  dig- 
nity. This  was  only  ruin  that  confronted  her;  she  felt 
that  she  could  meet  ruin  like  a  Pinkney.  Besides,  it 
didn't  come  suddenly.  It  had  been  drawing  nearer  every 
minute  since  she  and  Julia  Farrar  had  read  the  will. 

"  If  you  had  left  me  everything,  mother,"  she  said, 
in  mild  reproach,  to  the  simpering  crayon  portrait  above 
the  narrow  mantel,  "  I  could  probably  just  have  stuck 
it  out  and  put  up  a  stone  for  myself  in  the  graveyard. 
The  land  was  worth  about  $3,000  and  I  certainly  couldn't 
last  beyond  83.  Father  passed  on  at  83,  and  grand- 
father at  81.  As  it  is,  mother,  I'll  have  an  auction  and 
make  inquiries  about  a  good  Old  Ladies'  Home." 

The  bills  came  out  from  Hamson,  smelling  of  fresh 
ink,  and  were  stuck  up  under  the  sign  at  the  cross  roads, 
on  the  schoolhouse  fence,  Natupski's  corn-barn,  the  rear 
of  Solomon  Russell's  buggy,  and  other  places  of  public 
information.  On  the  10th  of  August  there  would  be 
sold,  at  the  residence  of  the  late  Sextus  Pinkney,  Esq., 
house,  barn,  forty  acres  of  land,  together  with  stock, 
tools,  vehicles,  and  household  furniture  including    .    .   . 

Two  pink  luster  saucers  were  not  especially  named, 
but  they  were  in  many  minds.  Would  Juletta  allow  them 
to  be  placed  in  the  sale,  thence,  of  course,  to  go  into  pos- 
session of  the  Farrars?  Would  she  bake  a  farewell  pie 
in  each?  Would  she  carry  them  with  her  to  the  Old 
Ladies'  Home  in  Mifflin  Grove,  where  it  was  understood 
she  was  to  seek  admission,  her  credentials  being  five 
hundred  dollars  in  money  and  a  black  silk  gown? 


TWO  OLD  BIRDS  ON  ONE  BOUGH  73 

On  the  10th  there  was  a  large  turnout.  Juletta  guessed 
it  equaled  her  grandfather's  funeral,  which  was  still 
remembered  as  one  of  note.  Quintus  Pinkney,  dying, 
had  given  orders  that  no  clergyman  of  any  denomination 
was  to  attend  his  obsequies.  But,  it  being  difficult  to 
realize  a  funeral  without  a  minister,  it  was  finally  decided 
to  invite  three,  a  Methodist  from  Hamson,  the  Holly 
Centre  Congregationalist,  and  a  Baptist  who  happened 
to  be  visiting  in  town.  The  last  no  sooner  entered  the 
house  than  the  dead  man  rose  in  his  coffin  and  towered 
above  the  assembly. 

"  You  were  only  a  young  girl,  I've  heard  mother  say," 
remarked  Mrs.  Perkins,  who  was  keeping  Miss  Juletta 
company  in  the  seclusion  of  the  middle  room,  while  the 
auction  went  on,  "  but  you  were  perfectly  cool  and  col- 
lected, though  every  one  else,  without  exception,  fled 
in  hysterics.  She  always  used  to  hold  you  up  as  such 
an  example  of  deportment.  '  Juletta  Pinkney  never  loses 
her  head,'  she  would  tell  us.  You  never  have  lost  your 
head,  have  you,  Miss  Pinkney  ?  " 

Miss  Pinkney,  slightly  confused,  turned  the  conversa- 
tion once  more  to  her  grandfather's  funeral.  "  There 
was  no  need  to  get  excited,  Sabrina,"  she  remarked.  "  It 
wasn't  grandpa's  ghost  come  to  be  revenged  because  we 
were  giving  him  a  proper  funeral.  There  was  merely  a 
board  dry-rotted  in  the  parlor  floor,  and  it  gave  way  at 
the  coffin  foot.  Fifty-eight  carriages  followed  the  hearse. 
I  believe  there  are  just  as  many  here  today." 

"  The  crackers  and  cheese  won't  begin  to  go  round," 
commented  Mrs.  Perkins,  "  but  I  suppose  it's  just  as 
well,  as  there's  nothing  to  drink.  There's  Solomon  Rus- 
sell torturing  the  poor  old  pump  again.    Hear  it  sigh." 


74  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

"  Seem's  if  I  never  knew  such  a  dreadful  dry  spell," 
said  Juletta,  to  make  conversation.  In  her  heart  she  was 
all  tremulous  with  a  sense  of  the  violence  being  done  to 
the  Pinkneys'  corn-sheller  by  putting  it  under  the  ham- 
mer. But  she  maintained  a  firm  front.  No  one  but  the 
Polish  shrimp  should  ever  boast  of  seeing  Juletta  Pink- 
ney  give  way.  "  It  never  was  so  when  I  was  a  girl," 
she  went  on.  u  I  recollect  just  once  the  well  give  out.  I 
was  about  sixteen.  And  it  must  have  been  something 
unusual,  because  father  rejoiced  in  the  chance  to  clean  it." 

"  He  found  a  lot  of  curious  truck,  didn't  he  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  so.  There  was  a  set  of  teeth  and  a 
few  old  shoes  and  the  collar  of  a  dog  we'd  lost  unac- 
countably, but  nothing  remarkable  for  a  well  that  had 
never  been  cleaned  since  it  was  dug." 

She  hardly  knew  what  she  was  saying,  for  Mr. 
Natupski  had  entered  the  yard. 

"  There's  the  Polander,"  said  Mrs.  Perkins,  "  come 
for  a  meal  of  crackers,  I  s'pose.  My,  how  the  folks  are 
laughing." 

An  exquisite  joke  had  just  been  played  on  Natupski. 
He  had  been  nodded  to  by  half  a  dozen  men.  When  he 
ducked  his  head  in  response  the  auctioneer  declared  him 
the  owner  of  a  lot  being  worked  off,  comprising  two 
yards  of  rusty  stove  pipe,  a  Pub.  Doc.  for  1872,  and  a 
mangy  stuffed  fox. 

"  And  sold  for  fifty  cents,"  said  the  auctioneer,  "  to 
Mr.  Natupski.  Change  for  a  dollar  ?  Certainly.  Kindly 
remove  your  goods." 

Of  course  Natupski  didn't  need  the  stuff,  and  was 
torn  with  rage  to  see  half  a  dollar  disappear.  He  tried 
to  say  he  only  wanted  to  bid  on  the  Jersey  cow,  but 


TWO  OLD  BIRDS  ON  ONE  BOUGH  75 

nobody  would  listen  to  broken  English  in  the  hubbub. 
Anyway,  cows  weren't  being  sold  just  then.  Only  trash 
was  being  sold.  Every  country  auction  furnishes  much 
trash,  and  the  Pinkney  garret  had  yielded  many  quick- 
silverless  mirrors,  tableless  legs,  and  bottomless  band- 
boxes. The  crowd  had  found  it  an  uneventful  day,  since 
most  of  the  interesting  items  had  been  bid  in  by  a  strange 
man  who  didn't  seem  to  care  what  he  paid.  "  Might  as 
well  have  some  fun,"  said  Abner  Slocumb,  and  bid  a 
nickel  "  sight  unseen "  for  which  he  secured  a  leaky 
demijohn. 

Then  Solomon  Russell  was  implored  to  "  be  a  sport," 
and  accepted,  for  a  dime,  something  described  as  "  an 
article  of  universal  household  utility,"  which  turned  out 
a  cradle. 

After  that  Natupski  was  made  to  appear  eager.  They 
got  him  in  a  ring  and  slapped  him  on  the  back  so 
that  he  always  nodded  when  the  bidding  had  gone  high 
enough.  Soon  he  owned  several  sermons  in  pamphlets 
with  the  long  "  s,"  a  number  of  broken  clocks,  a  coffin 
plate,  a  clapper  without  a  churn,  and  some  dozens  of 
cracked  dishes. 

The  last  had  been  hastily  made  into  a  "  lot "  by  Mrs. 
Perkins,  when  news  came  that  Polish  Natupski  was  bid- 
ding like  a  wild  man — would  buy  anything,  or  could  be 
made  to  appear  ready  to  do  so. 

"  After  all,"  said  Abner  Slocumb,  when,  the  interval 
of  fooling  being  over,  a  decorous  move  was  made  to  go 
into  the  house  and  sell  tipup  tables  and  mahogany  high- 
boys, "  you  needn't  get  your  dander  up,  Natupski.  You 
ain't  spent  but  $2.60,  and  the  young  ones  '11  pick  a  lot 
of  playthings  out  of  the  truck." 


76  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

Natupski  had  no  words  for  the  benighted  American. 
That  a  sane  man  should  be  suspected  of  a  readiness  to 
pay  $2.60  for  playthings!  Children  didn't  need  play- 
things if  you  gave  them  plenty  of  work.  Besides,  he 
needed  that  $2.60,  because  his  quarterly  interest  would 
be  due  by  and  by.  He  was  always  saving  for  that 
quarterly  interest,  even  when  one  quarter  had  just  been 
paid.  He  was  not  like  the  American  farmers,  who  paid 
half  what  was  owing,  and  then  went  off  and  celebrated. 

He  didn't  go  into  the  house,  because  he  was  afraid 
they  would  make  him  buy  something  more.  He  got  a 
wheelbarrow  and  carted  his  purchases  home.  He  didn't 
know  it  was  etiquette  to  let  the  crowd  have  these  jokes 
to  kick  and  smash,  just  as  it  was  a  generous  performance 
to  buy  uneaten  pies  at  church  suppers  and  play  roll  the 
platter  with  them  in  the  highroad. 

The  auction  got  talked  over  at  Slocumbs'  supper. 

"  I  don't  think  much  of  it,"  said  Nancy,  deftly  dishing 
out  dip  toast.  "  It  wasn't  fair  and  square.  '  Positively 
without  reservation '  the  bills  read,  and  'twas  no  such 
thing." 

"  Can't  see  why  not,"  returned  Abner.  "  They  trotted 
out  a  lot  of  stuff  I'd  put  in  a  bonfire.  Poor  Natupski 
bought  a  coffin  plate." 

"  Two  very  valuable  things  wasn't  put  up." 

"What  was  they?" 

"  Those  two  pink  luster  sassers." 

Abner  roared.  "  I  suppose  you  women  lotted  on  seeing 
'em  sold  sep'rate." 

"  There'd  have  been  bidders.  If  we  ever  have  an 
auction " 

"  Don't  talk  about  it,"  cried  Abner,  averse  to  any  com- 


TWO  OLD  BIRDS  ON  ONE  BOUGH  77 

parison  of  his  own  course  with  that  which  had  brought 
the  great  Pinkney  family  to  so  sad  an  end.  "  I  was 
brung  up  to  call  the  auctioneer  the  man  who  followed  the 
undertaker.  But  unless  the  Charter  Oak  bu'sts,  Nance, 
you'll  find  I'm  worth  more  dead  than  alive.  What's  that 
hid  way  back  of  the  teapot  ?  Loaf  of  cake  ?  Pass  it  this 
way  so  I  can  get  the  taste  of  the  bread  out  of  my  mouth." 

Two  chunks  having  been  devoured,  he  asked,  "  What 
was  you  so  concerned  about  those  saucers  for?  " 

"  Well,  I  didn't  know — if  they  wasn't  run  up  too  high 
— I  might  bid  one  of  'em  in " 

"And  give  it  to  Julia  Farrar!  More  fool  you!  She 
and  Farrar  can  afford  to  have  Have-land,  or  whatever 
the  latest  dewdab  is,  only  they're  so  condemned  near." 

"  I  should  give  it  to  Miss  Pinkney,"  said  Nancy.  **  It's 
a  sin  and  a  shame  the  way  she's  come  out,  just  because 
she  wasn't  a  master  good  manager.  And  only  of  her 
own  will  can  any  one  have  a  clear  title  to  that  house, 
because  her  granther  left  a  settlement  in  the  North 
chamber  to  any  of  his  unmarried  female  grandchildren. 
I've  seen  the  words — North  room,  passage  in  the  entry 
thereto,  and  two  shelves  in  the  butt'ry.  She  needn't  go 
to  no  Old  Ladies'  Home  'thout  she's  perfectly  willing." 

"  Well,"  quoth  Abner,  "  what's  the  use  setting  like  a 
queen  in  a  North  bedroom  when  you  ain't  left  yourself 
nothing  to  set  on,  and  no  victuals  to  eat,  and  not  even  a 
pink  sasser  to  eat  from?" 

"  She's  got  the  sassers,"  returned  Nancy.  "  That's 
what  I  was  speaking  of.  She  held  'em  out,  so  it  wasn't 
a  sale  fair  and  square." 

Abner  stared.  "  You  was  desirous  of  spending  some 
of  my  cash  in  getting  'em  back  for  her — "  he  began. 


78  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

"  Certainly.  I  want  her  to  have  'em.  But  it's  the 
principle  of  the  thing  that  makes  me  mad,"  retorted 
Nancy,  as  she  retired  to  the  kitchen.  Abner  was  so 
stupid.  "  I'd  most  rather  talk  to  a  cat  than  a  man,"  she 
told  herself.  "  Quite  as  much  satisfaction.  Don't  neither 
of  'em  know  what  you're  aiming  at." 

At  this  very  moment  Juletta  Pinkney  was  glancing 
about  her  old  house  with  a  candle  that  guttered  grease 
over  her  bare  hand,  looking  for  those  very  saucers.  She 
had  hidden  them — this  is  really  romantic ! — in  the  secret 
drawer  of  Granther  Pinkney's  secretary.  Then  she  had 
taken  them  out,  because  the  crowd  was  about  to  come  in 
and  start  bidding  on  the  furniture.  She  was  sure  she 
put  them  into  her  carpet  bag,  which  stood  half  packed  in 
the  middle  room.  No  one  had  been  in  the  middle  room 
but  herself  and  Sabrina  Perkins.  Yet  the  saucers  had 
disappeared. 

Sabrina,  who  was  waiting  to  get  home  and  take  Miss 
Pinkney  with  her,  called  sharply  from  the  road. 

"  It's  most  dark.  Better  leave  things  till  morning. 
I've  just  got  to  get  back  and  set  bread." 

Juletta's  old  white  face  appeared  at  an  upstairs  win- 
dow, looking,  in  the  twilight,  a  good  deal  like  the  ghost 
of  the  last  Pinkney. 

"  You  trot  along,  Briny,"  she  said,  with  her  (almost) 
never  varied  self-command.  "  I've  mislaid  something 
of  consequence.    I'm  going  to  find  it  if  it  takes  all  night." 

Mrs.  Perkins  drove  off. 

"  I  wouldn't  stay  in  the  poky  old  place  after  sunset," 
she  assured  herself,  "but  I  s'pose  it's  second  nature  to 
her." 

Any  stranger  would  have  thought  the  rooms  especially 


TWO  OLD  BIRDS  ON  ONE  BOUGH  79 

ghostly  this  evening,  with  bureaus  standing  where  they 
didn't  belong,  in  front  of  windows;  every  uncarpeted 
board  having  its  own  squeak,  and  all  the  closet  doors 
standing  wide  open  as  if  to  give  the  skeletons  egress. 
But  Juletta  didn't  mind.  Besides  being  used  to  the  old 
house,  all  her  interest  was  concentrated  on  finding  those 
pink  luster  saucers. 

She  searched  and  searched,  through  her  own  property, 
and  that  which  had  been  bid  in  by  the  man  who  bought 
the  house.  She  searched  until  it  was  getting  on  for  nine 
o'clock,  and  the  candle  went  out.  It  went  out  while 
she  was  in  the  North  room,  which  was  yet  hers  by  right 
of  inheritance,  under  her  grandfather's  will. 

"  We  sha'n't  pass  the  papers  until  tomorrow,"  she 
thought,  and  threw  open  the  shutters  that  she  might  take 
a  look  on  what  was  probably  the  last  property  holding  of 
a  Pinkney  in  West  Holly.  The  moon  had  risen  and  did 
something  to  atone  for  the  fact  that  Juletta's  once  care- 
fully tended  kerosene  lamps  were  scattered  all  over  the 
neighborhood. 

She  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  a  bed  which  had  been 
stripped  to  its  bare  cords.  It  was  horrid  to  have  to  go 
over  to  Sabrina's,  to  stop  right  in  the  face  of  the  change 
she,  who  hated  change,  had  wrought  in  West  Holly. 
Mrs.  Judson  Buckland  was  in  the  right  of  it,  when  she 
moved  the  very  next  minute  after  the  sale  was  com- 
pleted. Several  had  asked  Miss  Pinkney  to  visit 
round  while  good  weather  lasted,  but  she  guessed  she 
wouldn't. 

"  I'll  put  myself  into  the  home  tomorrow  and  be  done 
with  it,"  she  declared.  "  If  I  can't  be  Miss  Pinkney  of 
the  old  Pinkney  place  no  more,  I'll  go  and  be  an  inmate 


80  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

in  an  institution.  I  always  did  hate  betwixts  and  be- 
tweens." 

She  rose  to  depart,  and  then  she  heard  a  noise.  Some- 
body had  come  crossways  through  the  homelot,  under  the 
plum  trees.  Somebody  got  over  the  wall  down  by  the 
willows,  knew  how  to  avoid  the  old  dry  ditch  back  of 
the  well,  and  tripped  as  with  accustomed  feet  to  the 
door  in  the  shed. 

This  door  in  the  shed  was  a  Pinkney  secret.  All  the 
world  knew  of  the  front  door,  the  South  door;  even  the 
Natupskis  could  see  the  back  door.  But  the  door  in  the 
shed  was  so  artfully  hidden  that  no  Pinkney  had  ever 
locked  it  at  night,  even  with  money  in  the  house.  It  was 
approached  by  such  a  winding  way,  through  piles  of 
seasoned  wood,  past  pitfalls  of  swill  barrel,  up  steps 
and  down,  with  avoidance  of  other  stairs  that  led  into  a 
workshop  and  a  back  butt'ry,  that  no  one  could  success- 
fully negotiate  it  who  had  not  been  brought  up  in  the 
house. 

"  Whoever  you  are,"  said  Juletta,  with  an  awful  calm, 
and  looking  like  a  polite  old  wraith  in  the  moonlight, 
"  you  came  in  through  the  shed,  so  you're  either  an  an- 
cestor's spirit,  or  Julia  Farrar.  Well,  you're  Julia 
Farrar ! " 

A  little  amazement  crept  into  her  tone,  but  she  re- 
pressed it  immediately.  She  and  Julia  Farrar  hadn't  met 
for  almost  a  quarter  of  a  century,  but  the  house  was 
hers  until  tomorrow,  and  she  would  show  she  was  mis- 
tress of  the  place  and  of  herself. 

Julia  Farrar  was  brazen  and  outspoken.  Brazen  and 
outspoken  as  she  had  been  forty-nine  years  before,  when, 
breaking  a  sentimental  deadlock,  she  had  roused  her 


TWO  OLD  BIRDS  ON  ONE  BOUGH  81 

sister  at  midnight,  with  the  request,  "  Don't  meach, 
Juletta,  speak  out  straight.  Do  you  want  Hiram  Farrar 
or  be  you  planning  to  give  him  the  mitten?  Because  if 
the  last  is  your  intention  I'm  going  after  him  myself." 

"  Ain't  you  got  kerosene  ?  "  she  now  asked,  just  as 
if  she  had  been  talking  to  Juletta  every  day  for  the  past 
twenty-five  years.    "  I'd  better  have  fetched  a  lantern." 

She  sat  down  at  one  of  the  front  windows.  The  moon 
shone  becomingly  on  her  broad,  pasty  face,  making  her  a 
fairly  good-looking  woman.  Usually  she  could  "  never 
hold  a  candle  "  to  Juletta,  but  just  now  Juletta,  before  the 
other  window,  seemed  witchlike,  as  if  ill  fortune  had 
tweaked  her  features. 

But,  and  for  it  she  applauded  herself,  she  was  able  to 
keep  perfectly  calm.  As  she  would  afterward  tell  herself 
the  story,  when  she  might  awake  along  toward  morning 
and  it  would  be  too  early  to  rise,  "  I  recollected  my  man- 
ners and  that  I  was  a  Pinkney.  Julia  Farrar  didn't. 
She  acted  fidgety  and  all  strung  up.  Sat  and  laughed  for 
two  hours  at  nothing  in  particular.  It  proves  what  comes 
from  marrying  out  of  the  family." 

Julia  Farrar's  first  remark,  after  the  long  laughing 
spell,  was  rather  offensive.  "  Why  don't  you  speak  out," 
she  said,  "  and  ask  what  I'm  come  for  ?  You  must  be 
dying  of  curiosity.     I'm  sure  I  should  be." 

"  I  presume  one  always  has  a  reason  for  making  a 
seeming  unseasonable  call,"  replied  Juletta,  as  nicely  as 
if  this  were  a  quilting  party  and  she  and  Julia  Farrar 
snapping  wet-starched  strings  across  the  frame. 

"  One  has,"  snickered  Julia  Farrar,  in  a  hilarious 
manner  ill  becoming  her  years,  false  teeth,  and  the  fact 
that  she  and  the  other  lady  present  were  supposed  to  be 


82  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

actively  supporting  a  family  quarrel.  "  I  had  some 
things  bid  in  for  me  today.  I  came  to  see  'em  safely 
disposed." 

The  other  chair  in  the  nearly  dismantled  room  creaked. 

"  Some  things  bid  in."  Juletta  knew  what  things. 
Pink  saucers.  She  had  always  suspected  Sabrina  Perkins 
of  being  double-faced !  But  Julia  Farrar  hadn't  got  'em 
yet,  that  was  proved  by  this  sneaking  up  between  daylight 
and  dark.  Those  saucers  should  never  leave  the  house 
intact,  Juletta  swore  it.    Unless  over  her  dead  body. 

What  was  Julia  Farrar  giggling  about  now?  The 
Natupskis,  who  could  be  heard  at  their  usual  midnight 
noise.  "  Don't  they  ever  quiet  down?  "  she  was  asking. 
Juletta  stopped  to  wonder  if  they  ever  did  quiet  down. 
She  guessed  they  didn't. 

"  They're  rather  company,"  she  observed,  and  waved 
a  palm  leaf  fan. 

"  You  must  hate  to  think  of  going  away  and  quitting 
'em,"  said  Julia  Farrar,  and  laughed  some  more.  Juletta 
might  have  risen  and  smitten  her  in  the  jaw,  but  she  had 
never  smitten  Julia,  even  when  they  were  both  children, 
though  even  then  Julia  had  been  very  clever  at  roiling 
the  other's  temper. 

Night  began  to  wane,  while  the  two  old  women  sat 
facing  one  another,  with  an  occasional  giggle  from  one, 
an  occasional  remark  from  the  other.  A  soft  gray  took 
the  place  of  blackness,  and  trees  and  the  Natupski  barn 
stood  forth  in  that  new  washed,  clear-cut  appearance 
which  marks  a  summer's  dawn.  This  was  a  signal  for 
the  Natupskis  to  get  up,  if  indeed  they  had  ever  been  to 
bed.  Kani  came  forth,  wearing  a  milk  pail  upside  down 
on  his  head,  and  carrying  a  few  articles  of  clothing. 


TWO  OLD  BIRDS  ON  ONE  BOUGH  83 

Mrs.  Natupski  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  piazza  and  shook  the 
youngest  baby  into  animation.  The  children  bathed  by 
rolling  in  the  dew.    At  least  they  rolled  in  the  dew. 

"Ain't  they  never  out  o'  sight? "  asked  Julia  Farrar. 
"  I  should  think  you'd  be  tickled  crazy  at  the  idea  of 
being  shut  of  them." 

Juletta  assumed  the  full  panoply  of  elder  sister  dignity. 
"Was  you  thinking  of  stopping  to  breakfast?"  asked 
she.  "  Because,  if  so,  I  must  inform  you  there's  not  a 
mite  of  china  in  the  house." 

"  What  ? "  returned  Julia  Farrar,  with  that  idiotic 
giggle  which  had  kept  Juletta' s  fingers  twitching  all 
night,  "  not  even  your  two  pink  luster  sassers?  " 

Juletta  started  forward  precipitately,  then  remembered 
whom  she  was,  sat  back,  and  tried  again.  This  time  she 
was  able  to  soar  upward  like  a  balloon  new-inflated  in 
agricultural  show  time.  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  Julia 
Farrar.    You  mean  your  two  pink  luster  sassers." 

11  Mine  ?  Oh,  not  mine.  I  wish  they  were  mine,  for 
I've  the  cups  to  match.  Still — there's  the  will,  if  you 
wish  to  hang  on  to  'em.  I'm  sixty-five.  Sixty-five  sees 
things  different  from  forty.  So — keep  the  pink  luster 
sassers  if  so  be  it  your  conscience  tells  you  to." 

Juletta  opened  her  mouth,  some  like  a  nicely  disposed 
fish  almost  determined  to  accept  the  bait,  and  then  closed 
it  with  a  snap. 

"  I  would  tell  the  truth  and  shame  the  devil,"  she  ob- 
served, in  her  delightfully  exasperating,  painfully  polite 
manner. 

Julia  Farrar  struggled  to  her  feet,  panting,  because  she 
was  of  stoutish  habit,  and  unused  to  sitting  up  all  night. 
She  looked  out  into  the  green  world  wherein  the  Pinkney 


84  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

place  was  set  like  a  brown  jewel  in  a  jade  setting.  Two 
little  nondescript  birds  were  squabbling  on  one  bough. 
They  chattered  and  pecked  one  another,  yet  neither  would 
fly  away.  There  were  unoccupied  miles  all  about  them, 
a  multitude  of  idle  twigs,  yet  they  stayed  on  one  bough 
pestering  each  other.  What  either  wanted  it  was  im- 
possible to  tell,  but  it  was  quite  plain  one  would  never  go 
and  leave  the  tree  for  the  other. 

Julia  Farrar  laughed  again.  She  laughed  until  Juletta 
wondered  if  living  with  Hiram  Farrar  had  left  her 
touched.  Hiram  was  a  good  man,  as  men  went,  but 
married  life  of  any  sort  presupposed  change,  and  change 
was  dangerous  to  the  mind.  Juletta  had  felt  so  at  twenty- 
six.    That  was  why  she  had  given  Hiram  up. 

"  Say,"  cried  Julia  Farrar,  with  brutal  frankness, 
"  don't  let  you  and  me  be  a  couple  of  ninkums,  like  those 
dozzy  birds  out  there.  I  don't  know  what  you're  driving 
at,  but  this  is  what  I  want.  Two  pink  luster  sassers. 
You  ought  to  be  giving  'em  to  me  this  identical  minute, 
Julet.  Then  I  could  give  you  the  cups,  and  we'd  stick 
'em  together  up  in  the  corner  cupboard,  where  they  used 
to  be.  It's  what  I  intended  when  I  had  that  man  bid 
in  the  house  and  the  barn  and  the  land  and  all  that  was 
worth  saving  of  the  furniture." 

For  the  second  time  in  her  long,  self-controlled  life 
Juletta  broke  down.  She  didn't  shriek,  as  she  had  done 
when  she  found  dead  cats  at  her  door,  but  she  allowed 
two  symmetrical  tears  to  course  over  her  white  cheeks, 
as  she  said,  "  Then  this  is  yours — and  Hiram's " 

"Mine,"  returned  Julia  Farrar.  "I've  sold  the  land 
I  got  by  mother's  will,  and  it  was  enough  to  pay  for  the 
place.    Quit  crying,  Julet.    Quit,  I  say!    Of  course  you 


TWO  OLD  BIRDS  ON  ONE  BOUGH  85 

couldn't  go  to  that  old  woman's  almshouse  in  Mifflin 
Grove,  while  you  have  a  settlement  in  this  very  room. 
And  now — where  are  those  pink  luster  sassers  ?  " 

"  I'd  be  pleased  to  have  you  state,"  said  Juletta,  re- 
stored by  a  double  dab  from  an  edge  of  her  petticoat,  a 
handkerchief  being  no  part  of  her  costume  because  she 
hadn't  wanted  one  since  twenty-five  years  ago. 

"  You  think  I've  got  'em?" 

"  I  certainly  do.  I  think  Sabrina  Perkins  assisted  you 
to  their  possession." 

Juletta  was  all  the  more  strenuous  in  her  belief  be- 
cause of  an  overwhelming  gratitude  for  what  Julia 
Farrar  had  done  in  saving  the  home.  Now,  without 
working  out  the  details,  she  felt  assured  of  living  out 
her  days  in  the  familiar  rooms,  and  having  the  front  door 
pried  open  for  her  remains. 

"  You're  frank,  I  must  say,"  grinned  Julia  Farrar, 
"  but  you're  on  the  wrong  tack.  I'll  be  just  as  open- 
mouthed.  I  think  you've  got  'em  in  some  hideaway 
place." 

In  their  mutual  passion  both  had  drawn  to  the  side 
window;  Julia  Farrar  pettishly  drumming  on  the  sill, 
Juletta  clasping  the  plug  of  wood  that  kept  marauders 
from  lifting  the  sash.  Kani  Natupski,  in  his  morning 
leaps  and  bounds,  had  gone  to  his  house,  whence  he 
was  now  issuing.  In  each  hand  he  bore  a  dish,  laden 
with  repulsive  brown  fluid.     The  dishes  were  pink. 

Julia  Farrar  did  not  giggle.  "  He  buy  anything?  "  she 
asked. 

"  Two  dollars  and  sixty  cents  worth  of  trash," 
answered  Juletta  in  a  manner  not  especially  stately — 
almost  tinged  with  anxiety. 


86  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

The  birds  on  the  bough  kept  on  sputtering.  Perhaps 
they  enjoyed  it.  They  sputtered  all  day.  Their  erstwhile 
human  prototypes,  united  in  a  common  horror,  consulted 
with  each  other  and  decided  to  call  on  Abner  Slocumb. 

"  Please  go  to  Mr.  Natupski,"  gasped  Juletta,  "  and 
endeavor  to  secure  the  articles  he  took  at  the  auction." 

"  Tell  him  we'll  proceed  against  him  by  law  unless 
he  gives  'em  up,"  said  Julia  Farrar.  "  He  won't  know 
we  can't  do  it." 

"  Offer  him  anything  he  wants,"  continued  Juletta. 

"  Yes.  Here's  a  ten-dollar  bill  which  it's  lucky  I  had 
in  my  pocket,"  cried  the  practical  Julia  Farrar. 

Natupski  saw  Slocumb  approaching,  while  two  women 
loitered  in  the  Pinkney  dooryard.  For  some  reason  he 
hauled  Stanislarni  from  the  bread  barrel,  thrust  on  him 
the  stuffed  fox,  and  snorted  in  his  ear  the  amazing  order, 
"Play!" 

"Hei?" 

"  Say,  Natupski,  where's  that  truck  you  bought  to 
next-door  auction?  It  was  all  meant  for  a  joke,  you 
know — fun,  just  for  fun.  Here's  two  dollars  and  sixty 
cents  and  I'll  take  it  all." 

"  Yah  ?  "  ironically.  Then,  back  of  the  hand  to  Stan- 
islarni, who  strayed  near  with  the  fox,  "  Play!" 

"  Five  dollars,  Natupski,  for  the  things.  You  said 
they  wasn't  no  use  to  you." 

"  Oi ! " 

Slocumb,  perturbed  at  the  other's  density,  did  some- 
thing Nancy  would  never  have  allowed — drew  out  a  plug 
and  bit  off  a  considerable  chew.  Then  he  resumed 
negotiations,  and  ran  the  price  up  to  ten  dollars.  It  was 
the  limit ;  perhaps  he  showed  that  in  his  voice.    Perhaps 


TWO  OLD  BIRDS  ON  ONE  BOUGH  87 

Natupski  needed  exactly  ten  dollars  to  make  up  his 
quarter's  interest. 

At  any  rate,  he  thrust  the  bill  into  his  pocket,  collected 
a  wheelbarrow  load,  which  he  transferred  to  Miss  Pink- 
ney's  doorstep,  after  soundly  belaboring  Stanislarni  for 
having  too  conscientiously  obeyed  orders,  and  played  one 
of  the  glass  eyes  out  of  the  fox's  head. 

So  Miss  Juletta  became  repossessed  of  one  stuffed 
fox  and  a  glass  eye,  several  sermons  in  pamphlet  form, 
two  yards  of  rusty  stovepipe,  a  Pub.  Doc.  of  1872,  a 
number  of  broken  clocks,  a  coffin-plate,  a  clapper  without 
a  churn,  and  some  dozens  of  cracked  dishes. 

The  last  were  all  white. 

Julia  Farrar  raised  an  angry  face  from  the  inventory 
and  faced  Juletta.     Juletta  was  haggard. 

For  an  awful  moment  each  suspected  the  other  of 
double-dealing.  The  quarrel  of  a  quarter  of  a  century 
was  very  near  being  continued  to  the  edge  of  the  grave. 
Then  Natupski  crossed  the  road  and  the  same  picture 
came  to  the  memory  of  both. 

"  He  did  carry  pink  sassers,  drat  him ! "  exclaimed 
Julia  Farrar. 

**  You  are  not  incorrect  in  your  surmise,"  was  Juletta's 
comment. 

In  the  end  the  cups  moved  to  the  Pinkney  place,  as 
did  also  Julia  Farrar  and  her  husband  Hiram.  Juletta 
lived  in  serene  and  irresponsible  glory  in  the  North 
chamber,  passing  through  the  entry  thereto,  and  keeping 
plenty  of  goodies  on  her  share  of  the  shelves  in  the 
butt'ry. 

Natupski  swaggered  in  his  mind.  He  had  got  the 
better  of  the  old  woman  for  making  a  fool  of  him; 


88  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

that  was  all  he  cared.  He  hadn't  liked  it  at  all  that  the 
old  woman  flung  dead  cats  in  his  face,  and  told  him  in 
one  breath  to  take  them  away  and  not  to  take  them  away. 

As  for  the  pink  saucers,  they  were  very  handy  down 
in  the  barn  cellar  to  hold  the  stuff  one  put  on  the  places 
where  the  dehorned  young  creatures  were  sore.  When 
the  women  had  come  suddenly  on  him,  after  looking  at 
the  wheelbarrow  load,  and  shouted,  "Is  that  all?  Are 
you  sure  that's  all?"  he  had  shaken  his  head  and  batted 
his  eye  and  answered,  "  Me  not  understand." 

They  had  believed  him,  those  fool  Americans.  But  he 
knew  quite  well  what  they  were  after.  He  had  lived  in 
West  Holly  almost  two  years,  and  what  he  could  have 
told  the  inhabitants  about  themselves  would  have  sur- 
prised them. 


LETTING  NATUPSKI  ALONE 

Abner  Slocumb  lacked  determination.  Every  time 
he  looked  over  to  Natupski's  he  was  reminded  that  he 
lacked  determination.  And  then,  too,  Nancy  never  by 
any  chance  let  him  forget. 

How  many  times  had  he  settled  on  terms  of  implacable 
animosity  to  his  Polish  fellow-farmer,  only  to  be  turned 
away  by  something  that  seemed  pretty  serious  to  an 
American — such  as  the  uprooted  berry  bush  or  the  mar- 
tyred hay-cutter — but  about  which  the  Polish  agricul- 
turalist would  allow  no  interference.  How  many  trips 
had  he  made  to  the  Natupski  barn  with  information  as 
to  the  market  for  potatoes,  a  sure  cure  for  botts  on 
horses,  or  the  weather  man's  prophesy  of  storm  signals 
tomorrow,  get  your  hay  in  this  afternoon,  only  to  have 
his  well-meant  advice  flung  in  his  teeth.  Then  would 
Abner  Slocumb  darn  all  interlopers  of  non-English- 
tongued  varieties,  and  resume  scorn  and  derision  as  a 
couple  of  upper  garments. 

And  still  Abner  could  never  quite  content  his  social 
soul  with  emulating  the  unneighborly  frigidity  that 
existed  always  on  the  Pinkney  side  of  the  Natupski 
farm. 

"  They  say,"  observed  Abner  the  January  following 
the  famous  Pinkney  auction,  "  that  you  have  to  summer 

89 


90  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

and  winter  folks  to  know  'em.  Done  both  twice  and  a 
half  to  Natupski  and  by  Godfrey  Mighty  he  gets  harder 
to  guess  right  along." 

"  Give  him  up,"  returned  Mrs.  Slocumb  in  her  thinnest 
lip  manner. 

"  Wise  counsel,"  laughed  her  husband,  "  and  you've 
taken  it  yourself,  as  all  counselors  don't.  I  keep  aim- 
ing to  do  the  same,  too,  but  the  critter  makes  so  much 
noise  when  he  tries  to  get  quietly  out  of  fixes  that  I 
don't  succeed  particular  well.  Hear  considerable  of  a 
towse  this  afternoon?" 

Nancy  nodded. 

"  He'd  got  that  new  horse  wedged  in  between  the 
wall  and  a  stone  boat,  and  'cause  the  creature  couldn't 
move  he  was  whipping  it  to  make  it  move.  I  stood  it 
a  spell,  then  went  and  made  him  lay  down  the  whip  and 
unbuckle  the  harness.  The  horse  stepped  out,  sort  o' 
shivery,  and  looking  back  said  plain  enough,  '  Glad  I'm 
shut  o'  that ! '  You  know  how  a  horse  can  speak,  with 
great  rolling  eyes.  You'd  thought  that  Polish  scrimp 
would  'a'  felt  some  pleasure  at  the  way  the  noble  creature 
stood  stock-still,  not  offering  to  move,  but  no.  The 
brute — Natupski — picked  up  the  whip  and  commenced 
lashing  again,  's  if  the  horse  was  to  blame  all  through. 
By  the  way,  Nance,  where  was  you?" 

She  laughed  in  the  self-taunting  manner  she  assumed 
when  "  acting  foolish." 

"  Oh,  to  Natupski's,  'course.  If  you  had  him  in  the  ten- 
acre  lot,  I  had  all  the  rest  in  that  kitchen  bedroom  Mrs. 
Judson  Buckland  said  was  too  small  for  a  sewing-machine 
and  a  dressmaker  to  oncet.  Two  or  three's  got  croup.  I 
looked  across  and  see  'em  gasping  through  all  the  win- 


LETTING  NATUPSKI  ALONE  91 

dow  grime.  Remembered  my  goose  grease  and  slipped 
over  with  it  and  flannel." 

Both  lay  on  the  table,  whither  Mr.  Slocumb  sent  an 
inquiring  glance. 

"  We  never  had  any  children,  thank  the  Lord !  "  she 
burst  out.  "  But  common  sense  and  observation  have 
taught  me  the  way  to  bring  'em  up.  Feedings  at  regular 
times,  a  proper  formula,  with  a  teaspoonful  of  water 
or  six  drops  of  orange  juice  if  necessary.  The  second 
year  scraped  beef  and  educators.  In  case  of  a  choking 
spell  a  kettle  of  hot  water  under  a  sheet  tent,  with  liberal 
application  of  lard  or  goose  grease  to  the  chest.  'Tain't 
no  way  to  fight  it  to  tie  a  charm  round  the  young  one's 
neck  and  then  sit  on  the  floor  and  wail." 

She  swept  the  rejected  medicaments  into  the  chimney 
cupboard. 

"  Polish  babies,  being  nourished  on  germs,  at  irregular 
intervals  of  from  fifteen  minutes  up  to  half  a  day,  may 
have  their  croups  different,"  she  snorted. 

Perhaps  Nancy  Slocumb  was  right;  at  any  rate, 
Wajeiceh,  'Statia,  and  the  new  baby,  whose  name  was 
getting  gradually  changed  from  Marinki  to  Marinka,  re- 
covered from  this  spell  of  sickness  with  a  celerity  that 
spoke  well  for  their  constitutions. 

The  few  American  babies  in  West  Holly,  pursued  with 
wet  sponges,  hygiene,  and  sterilized  linen,  had  the  rickets, 
didn't  weigh  what  they  ought  for  their  age,  sometimes 
died.  Natupski  kept  his  family  intact,  with  several  grati- 
fying incretions.  Kazia  followed  Marinka  and  Novia 
put  Kazia's  nose  out  of  joint.  This  was  giving  'Statia 
a  good  many  little  sisters,  but  Kani  was  too  busy  getting 
a  man's  work  out  of  Stanislarni  to  voice  many  com- 


92  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

plaints.  This  one  born  in  Poland  was  proving  a  husky 
delight  to  his  father.  Even  before  he  stopped  beating 
him  with  the  goad,  Kani  never  looked  at  his  oldest  son 
without  a  great  feeling  of  thankfulness  that  the  boy  had 
not  been  wasted  on  Poland.  He  shivered  sometimes 
when  he  reflected  on  his  narrow  escape  from  a  total 
missing  of  this  fine  young  hired  man  who  was  his  to  com- 
mand until  of  age. 

Stanislarni  was  about  ten  when  his  father  stopped 
beating  him.  Stanislarni  convinced  his  father  that  he 
could  do  more  work  when  not  exhausted  by  a  licking,  and 
— wonderful  to  relate — Kani  Natupski  believed  it, 
though  only  so  far  as  Stanislarni  was  concerned.  He 
kept  on  pounding  Wajeiceh  and  threatening  the  girls  if 
they  did  not  work  to  suit  him. 

Nine  years  after  his  arrival  in  West  Holly  two  more 
boys  had  come  to  prove  Mrs.  Natupski's  assertion 
that,  given  time,  she  could  provide  her  husband  with 
plenty  of  both  kinds.  Stepan  was  the  elder,  and  the 
advent  of  Tadcuse  might  have  been  celebrated  simul- 
taneously with  the  last  payment  to  Mrs.  Buckland,  only 
the  payment  left  nothing  to  celebrate  with.  For  about 
then  her  piebald  horse,  now  tottery  on  the  legs,  made  a 
last  trip  to  the  house  over  the  way  from  the  barn  he  was 
born  in.  The  best  of  the  crops  and  the  cream  of  the 
profits  could  no  longer  be  claimed  by  the  lady  who  drove 
him. 

Owing  to  the  fact  that  Nancy  Slocumb  had  been 
snubbed  when  she  advised  oiling  Stepan  at  three  weeks, 
since  he  seemed  a  tendsome  child,  she  had  been  two 
years  trying  to  copy  the  Pinkney  plan.  Abner  helped  her 
because  she  made  him.    They  did  pretty  well  in  turning 


LETTING  NATUPSKI  ALONE  93 

their  backs  on  the  house  next  door  and  resolutely  using 
the  rooms  and  looking  from  the  windows  on  the  opposite 
side.  Hence  they  were  amazed  one  fine  morning  to  see 
Natupski  slouching  up  their  walk,  in  his  hand  a  torn  slip 
of  paper  which  he  tendered  in  silence  to  Abner. 

"  What's  this  ?  A  mortgage  note  and  canceled.  What 
d'ye  show  it  to  me  for  ?  " 

Natupski  shook  his  head  in  pure  bewilderment. 

"  Me  paid  M's  Buckland,"  he  murmured,  in  a  puzzled 
manner,  evidently  thinking  this  a  mysterious  call  for 
more  moneys. 

Slocumb  of  course  abandoned  his  role  of  non-inter- 
ference in  a  self-forgetful  rejoicing  that  his  little  neigh- 
bor was  out  of  debt.  He  never  expected  to  reach  that 
halcyon  state  himself,  but  then — he  had  not  to  suffer 
Mrs.  Judson  Buckland  as  a  creditor. 

He  snatched  the  paper  and  lit  it  with  the  match  he 
applied  to  his  pipe. 

"  'Rah  for  you,"  he  shouted  and  explained  himself. 
"  Now  you're  rich,  Natupski.    All  this  is  yourn !  " 

He  swept  a  half-circle  with  his  thumb,  the  horizon 
one  limit,  his  own  domain  another.  It  was  indeed  a 
sparkling  prospect  for  a  man  who  had  once  lived  in 
Poland  envying  landowners.  The  soil  peeping  up  be- 
tween crops  of  Natupski's  planting  was  black  with  fer- 
tilizer, fine  as  sand  from  much  working  over,  and  always 
weedless.  In  Natupski's  barnyard  a  fine  herd  of  cows 
gathered  nightly,  for  Kani  had  learned  by  experience  how 
to  care  for  his  creatures.  Splendid  fowls  stalked  about, 
making  one  forget  the  featherless  chicks  that  had  been 
buried  by  the  hundred  in  the  first  two  years  of  Natupski's 
farming. 


94  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

His  house  looked  just  as  when  he  moved  in,  with 
nine  years'  accretion  of  dirt;  but  the  barn  had  been  ef- 
ficiently patched  with  new  boards,  plastered  with  dung, 
and  shingled  with  cedar  shingles  at  an  extravagant  price 
per  thousand. 

But  Natupski,  despite  all  these  reasons  for  gloating, 
shook  his  head  gloomily. 

"  Nie.  Me  poor.  Me  poorest  man  in  all  world.  Me 
got  no  hope." 

"  Shucks !  You  got  a  whole  lot  little  hopes.  Besides 
one  big  one — Stanislarni.  That  chap's  so  darn  cute  not 
one  of  the  neighbors  ever  manages  to  get  a  glimpse  of 
those  left-hand  fingers  was  nipped  off  in  my  hay-cutter." 

The  small  man,  whose  boyish  grace  was  already  turn- 
ing to  a  wizened  agility,  would  not  rise  to  the  bait. 
Something  troubled  him  so  that  he  was  not  willing  to 
brag  of  his  big  boy.  He  leaned  against  the  post  and 
groaned. 

They  were  on  the  stoop,  where  Nancy  tried  to  banish 
her  husband  the  warm  half  of  the  year.  It  was  her 
ideal  to  get  the  inside  of  the  house  immaculate  and  then 
go  outside  and  live.  But  whose  ideal  is  achieved  ?  Cer- 
tainly not  Nancy  Slocumb's.  The  line  storm  or  the 
minister  to  tea  were  always  interfering.  But  today  they 
were  on  the  stoop  and  when  she  looked  at  Natupski's 
shoes  she  was  glad. 

Natupski  spoke  next  with  bitter  emphasis.  "  Me  not 
going  to  stay  on  farm." 

"  Heavenly  Betsey !  "  shrilled  Nancy  from  her  place 
in  the  background,  where  she  was  stringing  beans. 
"Looking  to  sell?"  Her  mind  rapidly  sought  the 
chances  for  neighborhood  improvement,  and  found  none. 


LETTING  NATUPSKI  ALONE  95 

"  What  next  ? "  she  asked  herself,  and  answered, 
"  Hungarians,  I  s'pose." 

The  Polander  was  shaking  his  head  as  he  said,  "  Me 
go  'way.    Jus'  go  'way." 

"  I  see,"  drawled  Slocumb.  "  Think  you'll  treat  your- 
self to  a  vacation,  now  you're  shut  of  the  mortgage." 

"  Me  go  other  land." 

"  Back  to  the  old  country,  where  you  were  raised  ? 
Take  any  of  'em  with  you?" 

"  Me  go  'lone,  all  'lone,"  crooned  the  little  Polander, 
falling  at  a  straight-backed  chair  and  trying  to  rock 
in  it. 

"  What — not  even  your  wife  ?  Well,  I  s'pose  you 
want  her  to  look  after  the  farm " 

"  No  good ! "  he  exploded  with  great  force.  "  She 
not  know  how  to  tend  farm.  Not  know  how  to  tend 
children.  Me  go  nights  cover  up  little  boys.  Me  say  who 
cover  up  little  boys  next  year." 

"  Wal — 'Statia's  getting  a  sizable  girl,"  Slocumb  tried 
to  say,  but  the  broken  speech  went  on,  "  Wife  need  me. 
Children  need  me.  Stay  five  year,  then  go.  Not  so 
bad." 

"  Then  why  not  stick  to  it  that  spell?  "  Slocumb  sug- 
gested. 

"  Me  sorry,"  Natupski  continued,  in  doleful  singsong. 
"Me  awful  sorry.     That  why." 

"  Reason  and  a  half,"  derided  Slocumb.  "  You're 
sorry  you  got  to  go,  and  you  got  to  go  'cause  you're 
sorry " 

Natupski  stamped  his  foot. 

"Me  awful  sorry — sorry  here!"  He  put  his  hands 
on  the  place  where  the  khaki  of  his  trousers  met  the 


96  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

black  of  his  shirt.  And  then,  "  Me  sorry  here,  too,"  and 
spread  his  stumpy  fingers  on  his  throat. 

The  Slocumbs,  dimly  discerning  what  he  would  be  at, 
sat  gazing,  then  rallied. 

"  I  see.    You're  under  the  weather.     Sick  ?  " 

"  Me  sorry.  Yes.  Me  no  care  for  farm.  No  care 
nothing." 

"  Have  a  doctor,"  snarled  Nancy,  the  more  viciously 
because  softened  into  sympathy  a  few  moments  before. 

"  Me  did." 

"Dr.  Gibson?" 

"  Ump." 

"What'd  he  say?" 

"  Doctor  feel  me  all  over.  Doctor  say  no  nothing 
matter.     Me  say  you  damn  fool." 

The  affair  of  the  doctor  being  thus  suddenly  closed, 
Slocumb,  after  blinking,  observed,  "  But  see  here, 
Natupski,  don't  you  want  to  get  well  ?  " 

"  Sure.  All  folks  want  get  well.  But  don't  get  well. 
Hospital  full  folks  want  get  well.  But  don't  get  well. 
Tell  me  how  get  well  me  give  farm.  Give  Stanislarni. 
Give  all  children.    Give  wife " 

"  Sh ! "  warned  Nancy,  rising  and  shaking  nothing  off 
her  gingham  apron.  "  I  don't  believe  you're  half's  sick's 
he  was  last  year.     Can  you  eat  an  aig  ?  " 

Yes,  Natupski  could  do  that. 

"  Well,  he  couldn't." 

"  Not  one  egg?    Jus'  one  egg?  " 

"  No.  Couldn't  down  it.  Had  to  have  the  white  set 
off  'n'  frothed  up.    Now " 

"  I  can  manage  the  cow  and  the  calf  and  all  the  rest 
o'  the  rhymed  version,"  put  in  Slocumb. 


LETTING  NATUPSKI  ALONE  97 

Natupski  ran  a  bleared  eye  over  the  Slocumb  form, 
muscular  and  strong. 

"  And  I  sleep "  Slocumb  went  on,  when  Natupski 

interrupted. 

"  Me  no  sleep.  Me  cry.  Wife  cry.  Children  cry. 
No  sleep." 

"  He  couldn't,  till  I  got  him  outdoors.  Ever  sleep 
outdoors  ?  " 

"  Nie ! "  Then,  brightening  up,  "  Me  smash  rest  o' 
window." 

Nancy  sat  down  hard  at  that  and  remained  until  the 
visitor  was  gone,  after  demonstrating,  by  a  considerable 
thumping  of  breast  and  stomach,  the  places  where  he  was 
not  "  sorry,"  implying  disease  in  all  other  parts  of  his 
anatomy. 

Then  she  made  a  long  step  to  the  'phone  and  asked 
Central  to  give  her  Dr.  Gibson.  Every  receiver  was 
down  on  the  line,  she  knew  that,  but  those  listening  for 
salacious  symptoms  heard  only,  "  Say,  Doctor,  why  didn't 
you  do  something  for  that  sick  Polander  on  the  Judson 
Buckland  place?  He's  able  to  pay  full  price  now,  you 
know." 

"  I'm  aware  of  the  fact,"  returned  the  doctor,  "  but 
what's  the  use?  " 

"  You  set  me  watching  Abner  last  year.  Why  not 
let  Natupski's  wife  cure  him?" 

"  Being  what  she  is,  she  won't.  Not  one  of  'em  '11 
take  care  of  another  that's  sick.  They  sit  round  and 
wait." 

"But  what's  the  matter  of  him?" 

She  listened  with  all  heed  during  the  ensuing  pause 
and  nodded  at  the  answer  she  expected,  "  Starvation." 


98  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

"  You  see,"  she  was  yelling  ten  minutes  later  to  Mrs. 
Natupski  (forcibly  waylaid  between  duties  such  as 
nursing  the  baby  and  pitching  hay),  "he  can't  get  well 
without  nourishing  food.  Oh,  dear,  I  don't  s'pose  she 
senses  a  word  I'm  saying.  These,  there,"  pointing  to  a 
pair  of  pullets,  and  going  through  a  dumb  show  of  fri- 
casseeing.  "  And  aigs.  Lots  of  aigs.  Milk,  too."  She 
imbibed  a  couple  of  quarts  from  her  own  fist.  "  Come 
here,  'Statia,"  seizing  on  the  girl  who  was  fetching 
baby   Tadcuse   to   the   maternal    fount.       "  Tell   your 

ma "  she  repeated  her  words  and  heard  them  turned 

into  excitable  Polish. 

Mrs.  Natupski  rejected  the  idea  with  vigorous  gestures. 

"  Says,"  volunteered  'Statia,  "  papa  no  will  let." 

"  I  presume,"  returned  Nancy,  "  he  counts  every  aig 
and  knows  how  many  hens  there  be." 

She  meant  this  for  sarcasm,  and  felt  like  bursting  into 
sympathetic  tears  when  the  little  girl  replied  that  it  was 
really  so.  Mrs.  Slocumb  had  known  New  Englanders 
who  were  "  near,"  but  their  wives  had  won  unmoral 
victories  by  holding  out  a  pound  of  butter  to  a  churn- 
ing, a  chick  to  a  brood.  After  all,  life  must  be  pretty 
hard  as  a  Natupski. 

She  laid  a  kindly  arm  on  the  other  woman's  shoulder, 
and  then  turned  home. 

"  She  told  me,"  'Statia  put  in  Polish,  "  she  will  bring 
back  nice  things  for  papa." 

The  Natupskis  had  been  tempted  with  very  few  gifts 
from  their  scornful  neighbors,  but  Mrs.  Natupski  smiled 
in  Nancy's  face  over  the  basket  containing  the  yellow- 
legged  fowl,  the  dozen  eggs,  the  jar  of  cream,  though 
she  did  force  acceptance  of  a  square  of  vari-hued  Polish 


LETTING  NATUPSKI  ALONE  99 

embroidery  in  return.  Nancy  regarded  the  gaudy  bit  in 
questioning  amazement.  "  Don't  know  what  to  do  with 
it  any  more'n  a  cat  knows  how  to  wag  two  tails,"  she 
observed,  as  she  locked  it  into  a  drawer  where  she  kept 
all  the  "  too  good  "  things,  as  mother's  last  set  of  false 
teeth  and  Mr.  Slocumb's  stepfather's  first  wife's  mar- 
riage certificate. 

A  fortnight  passed,  during  which  Kani  absorbed  as 
much  cream  and  as  many  guaranteed  eggs  as  the  best 
sanitarium  could  have  induced  the  most  obstinate  of 
"  lungers  "  to  put  away.  He  had  been  benefited  after 
the  surreptitious  manner  recommended  to  wives  of  dipso- 
maniacs, for  Mrs.  Natupski  was  unexpectedly  clever  in 
chicanery.  The  chickens  could  not,  to  be  sure,  be  "  ad- 
ministered secretly  in  a  cup  of  coffee,"  but  he  had  picked 
many  bones  without  comment  after  being  told  a  story, 
entirely  fiction,  concerning  an  unfortunate  biddy  that 
flew  against  the  grindstone  and  was  picked  up 
dead. 

The  end,  however,  did  not  justify  the  means.  Kani 
was  no  better.  He  coughed  in  the  night,  and  roused  the 
family  at  unholy  hours  to  join  him  in  praying  for  saintly 
interposition.  The  third  donation  was  accepted,  but 
gloomily.  Nancy  was  almost  determined  to  call  up  Dr. 
Gibson  and  tell  him  his  diagnosis  was  wrong.  While 
she  sat  considering,  and  at  the  same  time  mending  a  sock 
and  holding  the  cat,  a  usual  day  had  an  unusual  ending 
next  door. 

Mrs.  Natupski,  having  done  four  hours'  work  before 
breakfast,  swallowed  a  few  unsavory  morsels,  and  then 
beat  the  children  all  round,  this  being  her  method  to 
insure  their  willingness  that  she  should  depart  to  the 


ioo  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

field.  As  it  was  haying  time  she  did  her  full  share  of 
loading,  raking  after,  even  mowing  away.  'Statia  stag- 
gered about  the  untidy  yard,  weighted  by  fat  young  Tad- 
cuse,  and  keeping  an  eye  on  the  creeping  Stepan  and  the 
waddling  Novia.  Kazia  and  'Rinka  had  been  sent  to 
glean  raspberries  from  the  Slocumb  canes.  'Statia  did 
not  forget  to  put  the  fowl  to  boil,  as  Mrs.  Slocumb  had 
advised,  and,  there  being  no  sale  in  West  Holly  for  green 
peas,  the  meal  was  indeed  almost  American  to  which 
the  Natupskis  sat  down  at  sunset,  mamma  having  worked 
so  late  that  in  hastening  to  the  baby  she  had  time  to 
bestow  but  a  single  kick  on  the  passing  horse.  It  was 
her  usual  fashion  to  be  more  liberal  in  wanton  tyranny, 
which  was  simply  a  handing  on  of  her  husband's  former 
manifestations  toward  her  in  the  happy  days  when  he 
possessed  health  and  strength  and  was  sustained  in  energy 
by  the  fearful  anticipation  of  Mrs.  Buckland's  quarterly 
calls. 

Mamma  was  so  busy  simultaneously  satisfying  the 
hunger  of  the  baby  and  her  own  appetite  that  not  until 
the  second  leg  was  pulled  from  the  fowl  did  she  notice 
papa.  She  saw  he  was  eating  in  a  way  that  reminded 
her  of  her  bridegroom  Kani  tearing  the  black  bread  at 
their  first  meal  together  in  Poland.  A  wing  followed  the 
leg,  and  half  the  breast  disappeared  in  two  gulps.  With 
this  meat  he  drank  six  cups  of  the  boiled  chicory  which 
had  been  doctored  with  eggs  and  cream  at  noon,  and  left 
for  'Statia  to  warm  up.  Finally  he  reached  across  the 
board,  abruptly  removed  the  plate  from  under  'Statia's 
nose  and  shoveled  the  food  into  his  mouth  with  two 
sweeps  of  a  knife. 

The  girl,  who  had  lost  time  by  trying  to  eat  nice,  with 


LETTING  NATUPSKI  ALONE  101 

a  fork,  put  up  a  lip,  but  there  was  no  little  girl  crying 
done  in  Natupski's  house  that  day. 

Papa  rose,  stretched  his  arms,  lowered  his  head  like 
an  infuriated  beast,  "and  from  under  his  brows  looked  his 
wife  in  the  face. 

"  Labial! "  he  roared.  Then  he  leaped  over  his  chair, 
and  made  a  passing  kick  at  the  only  unbroken  pitcher  on 
the  premises.  In  a  moment  more  he  had  Mrs.  Natupski 
by  the  arm  and  was  administering  resounding  slaps  to 
the  side  of  her  head — such  slaps  as  one  might  give  an 
obstinate  ox  if  one  was  cruel.  Nor  did  this  end  the 
episode.  The  goad  was  on  the  piazza,  and  after  being 
shouted  at  several  times  Wajeiceh,  trembling,  brought 
it  to  papa,  who  forthwith  lashed  mamma  stingingly. 

This  scene  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Slocumb  interrupted.  They 
had  never,  in  all  their  nine  years  of  living  next  door, 
ventured  to  actually  call  on  the  Natupskis,  but  "  Come 
on,"  said  Abner,  "  let's  give  the  cuss  one  more  chance  to 
treat  us  like  men  and  brothers.  He's  under  the  weather 
and  we  owe  him  kindness  on  that  account,  any- 
how." 

They  took  one  look  of  frenzied  horror  at  the  scene, 
then  dragged  one  another  home  with  curdling  blood. 
Nancy  was  hysterical  for  the  first  time  in  her  life. 

"  That  poor,  poor  woman !  Toiling  all  day — and  a 
nursing  baby — and  eating  crusts  while  he  has  the  fat 
of  the  land " 

"  A  dumb  brute,"  said  her  husband,  "  only  I'm  morti- 
fied to  insult  the  critters  by  comparing  him  to  'em " 

"  And  to  think" — Nancy  choked — "  that  I  and  I  alone 
am  to  blame.  Forcing  nutritious  food  on  her  for  him  so 
she  may  become  a  victim  of  abuse.    She'll  always  hate  me 


102  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

now,  and  no  wonder.  Abner,  we  must  make  a  vow 
never " 

"  I  mean  always "  he  interrupted. 

"  Never  to  interfere  with  the  Natupskis,"  she 
screamed. 

"  Always  to  let  the  Natupskis  alone,"  he  roared. 

Enter  Mrs.  Natupski,  bruised,  even  bleeding,  but 
voluble. 

"  Zbawiciel! "  she  shouts,  and  having  shown  her  grati- 
tude by  addressing  these  gaunt  New  Englanders  as 
saviors  and  redeemers,  adds  that  thanks  to  them  she  has 
her  husband  back  as  he  was  in  the  honeymoon — 
" Pierwscy,  miesiac  po  slubie!" 

And  falls  down  and  worships,  much  to  the  embarrass- 
ment of  her  neighbors. 


VI 

"  HI-JINKS  "  IN  WEST  HOLLY 

"  What's  he  got  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Nancy  Slocumb,  hold- 
ing her  needle  at  the  full  thread's  length  from  the  stock- 
ing whose  thinnest  part  was  stretched  over  a  well-rounded 
sea-shell.  She  was  mending  hose,  as  usual,  before  the 
holes  broke,  while  Abner  read  a  letter  they  had  just  re- 
ceived from  a  nephew  in  Boston. 

A  few  weeks  had  passed  since  Mrs.  Natupski's  horrify- 
ing exhibition  of  gratitude,  but  the  Slocumbs  could  not 
forget. 

As  usual,  after  a  falling  out  of  understanding  between 
the  two  nationalities,  the  border  line  was  strictly  ob- 
served, and  all  communication  reduced  to  mere  civilities. 

The  Slocumbs  had  retired  to  that  sitting-room  which 
looked  "  the  other  way "  when  Nancy  said,  "  What's 
he  got?"  and  "  N-e-u-r-r-th-nic,"  said  Abner,  shooting 
out  the  final  sentence  as  if  afraid  it  might  stick  in  his 
system  and  clog  the  works. 

"What's  that?" 

"  It's  what  he's  got,"  was  Abner's  best  offer. 

"  Don't  try  to  be  funny  with  me.  If  you  can't  tell, 
say  so  right  out."  Nancy  was  as  encouraging  as  a  school- 
teacher dealing  with  a  boy  whom  one  is  desirous  of 
trapping  after  school. 

"  I  think,"  said  Abner,  "  it's  a  disease.  The  letter  goes 
on  to  say  the  doctor  tells  him  he's  worked  too  hard  and 

103 


104  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

he  must  go  to  a  place  where  there's  absolutely  nothing 
to  do.     So  he's  coming  here  next  Saturday." 

"  Gracious !  "  exclaimed  Nancy,  her  mind  rapidly  film- 
ing all  the  carpets  that  must  be  up  and  down,  and  all  the 
cooking  that  must  be  done,  before  she  would  be  ready  to 
welcome  young  Arthur,  now  fifteen,  and  by  her  unseen 
since  he  was  in  short  pants. 

Abner  had  at  last  found  chuckling  food  and  was  shak- 
ing gleefully.  "  What  I  like,"  he  gurgled,  "  is  his  coming 
here  because  there's  absolutely  nothing  to  do.  Rowen  to 
cut,  oats  to  cradle,  apples  to  pick,  fodder  corn  to  save,  and 
that  ball-faced  cow  liable  to  come  in  any  day!  If  I  did 
all  I  ought  to  do  every  twenty-four  hours  I'd  overtake 
myself  on  the  way  up  to  bed." 

When  the  boy  arrived  Nancy  was  not  slow  in  finding 
out  what  neurasthenic  was  and  pleased  to  learn  that  Ab- 
ner was  partly  wrong.  It  was  not  a  disease,  certainly 
not;  just  a  state  of  the  system.  As  for  the  work,  that 
was  what  study  was  called  nowadays. 

Abner  reminded  himself  of  his  boyhood,  when  lads 
considered  winter  school  a  neat  sitting-down  job,  wel- 
come after  eight  months'  wrestling  with  planting,  cultivat- 
ing, and  reaping.  How  almost  incredible  it  seemed  that 
one  of  his  blood  should  hold  it  a  task  to  read  books. 
Abner  rather  flaunted  his  own  practical  prowess  as  he 
drove  the  hired  man  to  the  ten-acre  piece.  Nancy 
thought  it  a  good  thing  if  having  the  boy  around 
was  going  to  make  her  easy-going  husband  take  that 
course. 

But  no  sooner  did  Arthur  get  wonted  to  life  in  West 
Holly  than  he  wanted  to  go  home.  Actually  packed  his 
little  valise  and  deposited  it  in  the  sitting-room,  with  the 


"HI-JINKS"  IN  WEST  HOLLY  105 

remark  that  the  nearest  train  was  the  4 130,  and  he  didn't 
mind  walking  if  uncle  needed  the  horse. 

Uncle  remonstrated. 

"  Land  o'  Goshen,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  favor  this  a-tall. 
Lotted  on  your  staying  till  sweet  apple  time.  Wanted 
to  see  you  get  some  color  in  your  face  and  fat  onto  your 
ribs.     Don't  you  like  it  here  with  us?" 

"  Y-yes.  You  and  aunt  are  awful  kind,"  stammered 
the  boy.    "  But — you  see  I  want  something  to  do." 

Abner  shook  his  head  and  wondered  what  we  were 
coming  to. 

He  had  heard  a  great  deal  about  the  fatal  fascination 
of  city  life,  and  here  was  a  mere  boy  an  example  of  long- 
ing for  vaudeville  and  passing  crowds. 

It  seemed  a  case  for  feminine  cajolement.  Nancy  was 
called. 

"  Say,  Arthur's  thinking  he  wants  to  go  home-along. 
Thinks  it's  too  tarnation  dull  on  a  farm.  I  want  you  to 
tell  him  haying  '11  be  over  pretty  soon,  and  then  we'll 
try  and  lay  ourselves  out  more  in  the  way  of  enter- 
taining." 

"  Surely,"  said  Nancy.  "  There'll  be  Sunday-school 
picnic  for  one  thing,  and  cattle  shows  start  around 
August." 

"  H'm,  h'm,"  nodded  Abner,  in  approval.  Then  he 
added,  "  And  you  'n'  she  can  take  the  hoss  any  after- 
noon and  go  a-cousining." 

"  Oh,  you  haven't  understood,"  interrupted  Arthur, 
blushing  pitifully.  He  was  a  nice  boy,  and  really  dis- 
tressed because  his  uncle  and  aunt  thought  him  ungrate- 
ful. "  You  mustn't  trouble  to  take  me  about.  It's 
only " 


106  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

"  You  mustn't  leave,"  said  Abner,  "  till  you've  had 
more  of  your  aunt's  cooking.  Why,  Arthur,  garden 
sass  is  hardly  begun  to  come  yet.  And  there  won't  be 
chickens  broiling-size  before  next  week." 

"  I  was  planning  roast  sucking-pig  for  Sunday  din- 
ner," interpolated  Nancy,  "  and  if  you're  sick  of  pie- 
plant pies  and  strawberry  shortcake,  which  I  admit  we 
have  had  pretty  regular  because  just  now's  between  hay 
and  grass  for  pie-filling " 

"  Apples  being  out,  and  blueb'rys  not  yet  turned," 
Abner  put  in,  intelligently. 

"  Why,  I'll  send  to  the  store  for  raisins  and  citron  and 
stir  up  a  batch  of  fruit-cake.    I'd  just  love  to  do  it." 

"  And  I'd  just  love  to  eat  some  on't,"  said  her  gallant 
husband,  smacking  his  lips.  "  So  would  you,  Arthur,  if 
you  once  got  your  teeth  into  it.  Your  Aunt  Nancy 
don't  pattern  by  any  woman  when  it  comes  to  makin' 
cake " 

"  And  you  mustn't  think  you've  wore  your  welcome 
out,"  she  was  saying.  "  I  admit  I  was  some  sca't  when 
Abner  said  you  was  a-coming.  You  see,  I  ain't  much 
used  to  boys,  and  I  s'posed  you'd  hector  the  cat,  'n'  track 
in  mud,  and  throw  things  round  upstairs  till  the  spare 
chamber  looked  'bout  ready  to  ride  out.  From  what  I 
rec'lect  o'  my  brothers  that  was  the  only  sort  o'  boy  there 
was.  But  you're  not  like  that,  Arthur.  I  must  say  your 
ma  or  somebody  has  trained  you  splendid.  The  cat's 
never  so  happy  as  when  you're  a-making  of  her,  and  I 
never  did  see  anything  quite  so  cute  as  the  hangers  you've 
fixed  for  the  clothes  press  with  old  wire  and  a  broom 
handle." 

Arthur  had  to  do  something  to  stop  them  talking,  so 


"  HI-JINKS  "  IN  WEST  HOLLY  107 

he  burst  into  tears — he  was  only  fifteen,  remember,  and 
suffering  from  neurasthenia — and  sobbed  out  he  was 
quite  happy  at  West  Holly — didn't  want  to  go  out  nights 
— could  be  contented  for  weeks  lying  in  the  hammock 
reading  "  Japhet  in  Search  of  a  Father  "  and  the  other 
products  of  the  bookcase — but  that  he  felt  his  precious 
time  was  being  wasted. 

"  When  I  say  there's  nothing  to  do,"  he  added,  polish- 
ing himself  off  with  a  handkerchief  fresh  from  the  folds, 
"  I  mean  there's  nobody  to  do  anything  for." 

Abner's  jaw  dropped.  A  boy,  only  fifteen,  complain- 
ing there  was  nobody  to  do  anything  for!  As  he  re- 
called it,  Abner's  own  youth  loomed  up  a  period  entirely 
occupied  with  devising  schemes  to  get  out  of  doing  things 
for  folks.  All  the  boys  were  similarly  employed  in 
escaping  woodboxes  that  must  be  filled,  carpets  that 
must  be  beaten,  grandfathers  who  must  be  run  errands 
for. 

"  What  particular  line  of  thing  was  you  planning  to 
do  for  somebody,  when  you  get  back  to  the  city  ?  "  asked 
Abner,  adding,  "  Of  course  it's  right  down  good  of  you 
to  consider  your  ma  so  much,  though  she  writes  she's 
managing  to  make  out." 

Arthur  stared. 

"  I  don't  help  mother,"  he  observed.  "  We  have  dif- 
ferent lines.  She's  in  Civic  Improvement — clean-up  day, 
you  see,  and  all  that.  Most  of  the  fellows'  mothers  are, 
now.  Municipal  housekeeping  it  is  called.  But  I'm  wor- 
ried about  my  club — my  own  special  club." 

Abner  and  Nancy  stood  silent,  talked  out.  The  boy 
went  on,  "  I  organized  it  all  myself,  though  it  meets  at 
the  West  End  Settlement  House.    I  began  with  five  and 


108  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

now  from  twenty-five  to  thirty  come  every  evening. 
They  are  splendid  chaps  and  getting  a  fine  tone;  they 
agreed  to  take  turns  being  director  while  I  was  away,  and 
the  scribe  was  going  to  write  me  all  that  happened.  Then 
I  thought  maybe  I  could  organize  something  like  it  out 
here — a  corresponding  branch.  But  all  the  boys  I've  met 
in  West  Holly  are  home  from  Academy  and  ahead  of 
me  in  things.  So  I  think  I'd  better  go  back,  where  I  can 
really  do  some  good,  and  not  spend  the  whole  summer 
just  amusing  myself.  I'm  too  mature,  you  know,  for 
anything  like  that." 

Abner  suddenly  sat  down  and  began  to  roar. 

"  Ho-ho-ho !  "  he  laughed.  "  So  that's  what's  eating 
you?  The  grub's  all  right  and  the  place's  all  right,  but 
you  want  some  submerged  tenth  to  do  a  little  good  to. 
Have  I  guessed  right  ?  " 

Arthur  nodded,  though  it  touched  a  raw  spot  to  have 
his  "  work  "  thus  ridiculed.  Perhaps  Abner  saw,  for  he 
presently  stopped  laughing  and  put  a  few  questions. 

"  Serious,  now,  boy,  tell  me  about  it.  Who  are  this 
twenty-thirty  and  what  d'ye  do  to  'em?" 

"  Well,  they  are  mostly  newsboys.  Russian  Jews. 
And  oh,  so  eager  to  learn  things.  Why,  when  it  came  to 
naming  the  club  one  boy  suggested  '  West  End  Society ' 
and  the  rest  all  said  no.  They  didn't  expect  to  live  in  the 
West  End  all  their  lives,  they  said;  they  would  go  to 
better  places  when  they  were  men  and  earning  money,  but 
they  should  always  keep  the  club  going,  so  they  wanted  a 
name  they  never  need  change." 

"  Well,  what's  it  called  ?  "  asked  Nancy. 

"  The  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  Guild." 

"  I  suppose  that's  your  notion  ?  "  Abner  gasped. 


"  HI-JINKS  "  IN  WEST  HOLLY  109 

"  Oh,  no.  Every  suggestion  has  to  come  from  a  mem- 
ber. I'd  never  have  got  along  with  them  at  all  only  by 
letting  the  boys  run  things." 

"  Then  what's  the  use  of  you?  "  Abner  inquired,  puz- 
zled. "  Why  couldn't  they  have  made  up  a  club  all 
alone?" 

Arther  couldn't  tell,  only  they  didn't.  He  was  director. 
All  the  clubs  in  the  settlements  had  directors.  It  was 
the  director's  business  to  keep  out  of  everything  and  yet 
be  in  it  all. 

"  You  see,  I  gave  'em  little  talks,"  he  remarked,  with 
firm  modesty.  "  I  was  always  ready  and  studied  up,  but 
I  didn't  say  anything  until  they  asked.  And  then  I 
brought  round  other  boys,  who  told  'em  things  they 
wanted  to  know.  Things  I  wasn't  up  in.  Once  I  was 
ready  to  run  away,  when  they  insisted  I  should  explain 
Football  Signals.  You  see  I  never  have  time  for  athlet- 
ics. But  I  got  our  school  captain  of  the  Eleven  to  come 
up  and  he  was  perfectly  splendid.  He  put  on  his  spiked 
shoes  and  other  togs  downstairs,  and  then  I  got  a  pan  of 
mud  and  mussed  him  and  he  wore  his  nose-guard  the 
entire  evening.  My,  the  club  was  pleased,  and  I  was 
solid  with  them  after  that." 

"  Arthur,"  exclaimed  his  uncle,  "  I  beg  your  pardon !  " 

"What?" 

"  I'm  afraid  I  been  thinking  you  was  sort  of  a  molly- 
coddle ;  your  aunt  said  you  was  good  as  a  niece  round  the 
kitchen,  and  I  was  afraid  you'd  grow  up  and  be  some- 
thing sissy,  like  a  gent  schoolmarm.  Now  I  know  better. 
I'll  bet  your  aunt  anything  she  pleases  to  name  that  you're 
cut  out  for  a  circus  man." 

"Oh,  don't!"  grinned  Arthur.     "I  really  did  help 


no  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

those  kids.  And  you  should  have  seen  the  treat  they  in- 
sisted on  giving  me  before  I  came  out  here.  They  said 
I'd  been  doing  things  for  them  all  winter,  so  now  I  must 
be  their  guest.  And  they  took  me  to  an  amusement 
park,  and  I  had  to  eat  peanuts  and  drink  sarsaparilla  and 
ride  flying  horses,  while  those  splendid  little  chaps,  who 
have  to  sell  four  papers  to  earn  a  single  penny,  paid  the 
nickels.  I  tell  you,  uncle,  I  never  expect  to  swallow  such 
soda  water  again.  They  just  stood  round  in  a  circle  and 
looked  happy  while  I  drank  alone." 

"  The  little  tykes !  "  said  Abner,  while  Nancy  flirted 
her  apron  into  her  eyes  and  wondered  what  such  a  club 
would  do  with  half  a  barrel  of  Early  Astrachans. 

"  Put  most  of  'em  in  their  pockets  to  carry  home  to 
the  littler  kids,"  said  Arthur.  "  They're  always  doing 
that.  Try  it  with  ice-cream  and  greasy  drumsticks  at 
the  big  Christmas  dinners.  But  it's  getting  awfully  late, 
uncle.    I've  not  much  time  to  spare  if  I  catch  the  4:30." 

"  Take  that  valise  right  up  chamber,"  responded  Ab- 
ner. u  I  won't  have  any  nephew  o'  mine  going  back  to 
the  city  complaining  the  rooral  deestricts  is  short  of 
anything.  We  got  a  sample  of  about  everything  that's 
going  right  here  in  West  Holly." 

"  Oh,  uncle,  not  slums !  " 

"  What  is  slums  ?  "  asked  Abner,  settling  back  in  his 
chair  with  an  ease  that  augured  ill  for  what  hay  was  out, 
since  if  the  hired  man  was  not  asleep  under  a  birch 
sapling,  then  it  was  because  he  was  smoking  his  pipe 
under  the  pines. 

"  Oh — you  know.  Dirty  houses,  old,  and  never  built 
to  be  used  for  what  they  are  used  now.  And  the  people 
don't  know  how  to  live  clean,  besides  many  of  them  are 


"HI- JINKS"  IN  WEST  HOLLY  in 

new  to  America,  so  they  can't  understand  what  is 
best." 

"  Boy,"  remarked  Abner,  "  if  your  description's  c'rect, 
and  I  reckon  'tis,  we've  got  as  good  slums  as  any  one 
could  want  right  hereabout.  Oh,  yes.  As  dirty  a  house 
as  one  need  hanker  after — old,  never  intended  to  be  used 
as  'tis  used;  people  who  don't  know  the  first  thing  about 
living  clean ;  and  so  new  to  America  that  they " 

"  Haven't  a  fly-screen,  a  wash-rag,  or  a  door  that'll 
shut  on  the  premises,"  quoth  Nancy,  catching  her  hus- 
band's drift. 

"  You've  said  it.  Now,  Arthur,  that  high-named  club 
might  have  been  very  well  for  a  starter,  but  there's  a 
tougher  job  cut  out  for  you  here  in  West  Holly.  We're 
going  to  let  you  tackle  the  Natupskis !  " 

"  What  are  they  ?  "  stammered  the  boy,  and  having  a 
confused  remembrance  of  being  already  introduced  to  a 
lot  of  objects  with  similarly  confusing  names — Holsteins, 
Berkshires,  Minorcas. 

"  What  are  they  ?  Hard  to  tell.  When  the  young  ones 
take  vermin  into  school  we  call  'em  pests ;  'n'  again  when 
the  man  reclaims  a  old  barren  pasture  and  makes  it  feed 
fifteen  creatures  where  before  three  starved,  I  say  they're 
precepts  and  examples.  Anyway,  they're  your  meat. 
Come  from  Poland,  don't  know  the  first  thing  about 
American  ways,  and  don't  want  to  know.  I  tackled  the 
man,  and  was  called  a  murderer  for  my  pains;  your  aunt 
set  out  to  be  good  to  the  woman,  and  got  the  poor  thing 
a  beating.    I  design  you  should  get  after  the  children." 

Arthur  appeared  bewildered,  but  he  saw  plainly  enough 
his  uncle  was  making  fun  of  that  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes 
Guild. 


ii2  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

"  He  thinks  I'm  a  silly  kid,"  the  boy  reflected.  "  Well, 
I  did  help  those  newsboys — I  did  so !  Let  him  bring  on 
his  old  country  slum."  And  aloud  he  asked  mildly  how 
many  young  people  were  supposed  to  await  "  tackling." 

"  There's  a  snarl  of  'em,"  said  Nancy. 

"  He'd  better  take  the  ones  already  broke  in  to  school," 
observed  Abner.  "  Stanis,  the  biggest  boy,  is  turned 
thirteen,  I  should  say." 

"  And  'Statia,"  put  in  Nancy.  "  She's  ten  and  bright's 
a  button,  if  some  one'd  only  tell  her  what  for." 

"  Not  girls,"  Arthur  murmured.  "  I  couldn't  tell  a  girl 
anything." 

"  All  right.  It's  completely  your  funeral,"  was  Ab- 
ner's  lugubrious  comment,  as  he  finally  rose  to  look  after 
the  hay.  "  You  better  start  in  straight  off,  Mr.  Eleemosy- 
nary Hardworker.  You'll  probably  find  your  congrega- 
tion out  stealing  something  off'n  my  farm." 

Arthur  set  his  jaw  and  explored  the  premises.  There 
was  a  shed  the  upper  part  of  which  would  make  a  good 
enough  meeting  place.  It  was  approached  by  a  trap-door, 
which  was  splendid  in  itself;  and  the  bare  floor  was  only 
encumbered  by  shavings  from  stray  carpentry.  Arthur 
swept  vigorously,  and  borrowed  some  old  chairs  from  the 
garret,  also  a  sort  of  rocking-bench  that  he  could  not 
know  was  a  chair  cradle.  On  a  light  stand  he  placed  the 
splendid  gavel  he  found  in  the  cellar  (it  was  a  bung 
starter)  and  over  the  wide  window  he  draped  the  felt 
banners  of  his  school.  He  was  glad  he  had  brought 
them.  It  would  have  seemed  wrong  to  start  a  club  with- 
out felt  banners.  Arthur  decided  it  looked  good  enough, 
and  went  to  find  his  Natupskis.  On  the  way  he  meditated 
anent  his  first  talk. 


"HI-JINKS"  IN  WEST  HOLLY  113 

Oh—"  The  Toothbrush." 

After  that,  "  Hygiene  of  Hair  and  Nails,"  "  Fresh  Air 
in  the  Sleeping-Room,"  "  Mastication  of  Food,"  cul- 
minating in  "  The  Daily  Bath."  Arthur  had  been  trained 
in  that  large  school  which  endeavors  to  secure  moral 
regeneration  through  sanitation. 

Being  an  adept  in  catching  boys  he  had  no  trouble  in 
securing  the  presence  of  two  young  male  Natupskis  at  his 
first  evening  session,  which  began  with  sunset  and  con- 
tinued under  the  bright  light  of  Aunt  Nancy's  well- 
polished  lantern. 

Looking  the  lads  over  some  understanding  of  their 
loneliness  thrilled  Arthur's  little  practical  heart. 

Arthur  no  longer  remembered  that  he  wanted  to 
"  make  good "  as  a  means  of  getting  back  at  Uncle 
Abner.  He  really  yearned  to  give  these  waifs  some 
present  happiness.  He  began  to  talk  more  eloquently 
than  he  had  ever  talked  at  the  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes 
Guild. 

His  subject  was  that  other  club  in  the  West  End  of 
Boston.  From  it  he  passed  to  the  subject  of  himself. 
He  had  come  to  West  Holly,  he  said,  and  he  was  lone- 
some. 

"  Let's  meet  here — every  night,  if  you  like.  Perhaps 
not  quite  so  often?  You  are  to  say  what  we  are  to  do. 
We  will  take  turns  being  in  charge." 

Stanislarni  nodded  a  very  shock  head.  The  younger 
boy  stared. 

"  We  will  do  things  together.  Things  we  like  to  do," 
Arthur  went  on,  rather  nervously.  His  city  newsboys 
had  not  received  him  in  silence  such  as  this,  they  had  been 


ii4  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

forever  bobbing  up  and  waving  their  hands  for  recogni- 
tion.   "  Er — games,  for  instance." 

It  was  hurrying  things  to  produce  these  so  early  in  the 
evening,  for  he  had  depended  on  dominoes  and  tiddly- 
winks  to  sugarcoat  a  half-hour's  instruction.  But  the 
constant  gaze  of  four  ox-like  eyes  had  effect  in  putting 
the  young  missionary  out  of  his  reckoning. 

Not  a  boy  looked  at  the  enticing  table.  Even  when 
Arthur  stooped  to  get  the  checkerboard  from  under  a 
chair,  he  could  feel  the  top  of  his  head  being  bored  by  a 
piercing  gaze. 

As  a  gambler  who  plays  his  last  penny  "  Go  Bang  " 
was  added  to  the  pieces  on  the  board.  Arthur  sank  back 
exhausted  and  waited. 

The  place  grew  full  of  those  dreadful  sounds  that  ring 
in  the  ears  of  those  who  suffer  from  stage  fright.  Stanis- 
larni  slowly  uncrossed  his  right  foot  and  crossed  his  left. 
Wajeiceh  wetted  his  lips.  The  table  gave  an  independent 
creak.  The  wind  in  the  trees  sounded  like  a  rainy  day. 
Arthur  was  afraid  that  if  he  tried  to  speak  he  would  find 
he  had  lost  his  voice.  What  was  his  topic  for  the  even- 
ing? 

"  The  Toothbrush." 

At  the  O.  W.  H.  Guild  it  had  been  bad  form  to  intro- 
duce it  abruptly.  One  worked  up  to  it  with  tact.  How 
did  one  begin  ? 

"  Let  us  tell  a  story — let  us  each  tell  a  story.  Benny 
Levi,  will  you  not  begin  ?  Tell  us  the  first  thing  you  re- 
member." 

Benny  tells  a  tale,  probably  apochryphal,  about  going 
to  Heder. 

"  That  is  very  nice.    Now  I  am  going  to  tell  you  what 


"HI-JINKS"  IN  WEST  HOLLY  115 

I  first  remember.  I  suppose  you  will  all  laugh.  The 
first  thing  I  remember  is  having  a  toothache." 

Obedient  laughter  accompanied  by  much  falling  off 
chairs. 

"  Well,  boys,  I've  never  forgotten  that  toothache. 
Have  any  of  you  had  the  toothache?  Then  I'm  sure 
you'll  never  forget  it.  Now  we  none  of  us  like  to  have 
toothache.  Do  we  like  to  have  toothache?  'Course  we 
don't.  And  the  only  way  not  to  have  it  is  to  brush  our 
teeth  every  time  we  eat  anything." 

Due  pause  for  hilarity,  then  continuance :  "  Oh,  it's 
all  right  to  laugh,  but  those  of  us  who  have  had  the 
toothache  know  it  was  no  laughing  matter.  Perhaps  we 
had  to  go  to  the  dentist  and  have  it  pulled  out.  Just 
think,  that  tooth  will  never  grow  again!" 

Pause  for  consternation.  Next,  "  I,  for  one,  have 
made  up  my  mind  to  always  brush  my  teeth,  and  so  not 
have  any  of  them  pulled  out.  I'm  going  to  brush  them 
up  and  down,  because  the  dentist  says  that  is  the  correct 
way.  And  I  am  going  to  take  lots  of  care  of  my  tooth- 
brush and  keep  it  in  a  wax-paper  case,  like  this.  Would 
any  of  you  boys  like  to  try  it,  with  me  ?  We  might  agree 
to  brush  our  teeth  three  times  a  day  for  a  week,  and  to 
report  if  we  forgot.  Mr.  Sporrow,  the  kind  man  who 
built  this  house,  sent  up  all  these  nice,  sealed-up  brushes, 
and  if  any  one  wants  to  take  one  he  may.  They  are 
not  gifts,  they  are  only  loaned.  I'm  sure  he  would  like 
every  boy  here  to  borrow  one  and  keep  it  for  a  while. 
Then  bring  it  back,  and  let  him  know  if  you  are  not 
glad.  And  he  will  have  a  new  brush  and  a  tube  of 
paste  for  every  one  who  hasn't  forgotten." 

That  clever  sop  to  self-respect,  loaning  the  toothbrush, 


n6  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

seemed  to  all  the  settlement  workers  the  top-notch  of 
delicacy.  "  I've  fifty-five  brushes  lent  out,"  they  would 
brag  to  one  another. 

Arthur  felt  that  he  must  make  a  break.  He  opened 
his  mouth  to  start  the  toothbrush  peroration,  when  an 
immense  bump  on  the  underside  of  the  trap-door  saved 
the  evening.  Stanislarni,  who  was  sitting  over  it,  jerked 
out  a  very  American  "Ow ! "  Wajeiceh  growled  "What's 
matter  ?  "  and  looked  pugnaciously  at  Arthur.  Stanis- 
larni recovered  first  and  grinned,  after  cuffing  his  brother. 

"  Bet  yer,"  he  said,  "  my  sister  'Statia.    She  mad." 

Another  bump  lifted  the  trap.  The  boy  looked  for 
instructions. 

"  Give  a  lick  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Why,  of  course  not,"  said  Arthur,  naturally  dis- 
tressed at  this  manner  of  dealing  with  the  female  sex. 
He  advanced  to  parley.  Pert  little  'Statia,  her  black 
hair  adorned  with  cobwebs,  a  result  of  butting  that 
wooden  trap,  peered  eagerly  around  the  forbidden  place. 

"  Lemme  in,"  she  said,  peremptory  as  a  militant  at  the 
door  of  Parliament.  "  I  got  more  English  than  any  of 
'em.    I  can  talk  awful  good.    Teacher  telled  me  so." 

"  B-but  this  is  a  boys'  club.  Just  for  boys,  you  know," 
explained  the  afflicted  Arthur.  Stanislarni,  catching  his 
drift,  showed  that  his  former  silence  had  been  the  result 
of  choice,  by  exuding  a  mass  of  Polish  talk  which  Arthur 
hoped  was  less  abusive  than  it  sounded. 

"  A'right,"  said  'Statia,  at  the  finish.  "  Go  ahead.  I 
sit  here." 

She  plumped  herself  on  the  top  step,  politely  out  of  the 
room,  practically  in  it. 

Arthur  felt  the  impossibility  of  letting  her  brothers 


"  HI-JINKS  "  IN  WEST  HOLLY  117 

bang  the  trap  down  on  her  head,  and  restrained  their 
desire  to  do  so.  He  got  back  to  his  chair,  and  began  the 
toothbrush  patter,  hardly  knowing  what  he  said. 

"  Let  us  tell  a  story — let  us  each  tell  a  story.  Stanis- 
larni  Natupski,  will  you  not  begin?  Tell  us  the  first 
thing  you  remember." 

As  he  feared,  no  giggles,  no  apochrypha,  no  anything. 
Stanislarni  sat  as  if  made  out  of  wood.  It  was  quite 
dreadful.  Arthur  lacked  inventive  power,  he  could  see 
no  way  of  dashing  into  the  toothbrush  lecture  but  by  the 
well-learned  path. 

A  voice,  from  the  stairs,  broke  his  revery. 

"  Ask  me,  mister.     Don't  ask  them  greenhorns." 

He  asked  her. 

"  First  I  remember  is  Stanislarni  has  a  banana.  Some 
nice  rich  person  is  give  him  a  banana.  He  bites  with  the 
skin  on  and  it  is  bad.  Stanislarni  is  a  awful  green- 
horn." 

Having  thus  neatly  scored  off  her  customarily  tyran- 
nical brother,  'Statia  folds  her  hands  over  her  inadequate 
seersucker  skirt  and  beams. 

Arthur  goes  on.  He  repeats  the  story  of  his  own 
toothache.  When  he  pauses  for  laughter,  it  is  'Statia 
who  laughs.  When  he  stops  for  consternation  over  the 
tooth  that  will  never  grow  again  it  is  the  intelligent  female 
who  interpolates,  "  Second  tooth."  Even  the  brisk-witted 
Russian  Jews  hadn't  thought  of  that.  But  at  the  invita- 
tion to  borrow  a  toothbrush,  which  Arthur  illustrated  by 
the  production  of  a  half-dozen,  properly  sealed  (he  never 
left  home  without  them),  it  was  the  masculine  element 
that  abruptly  arose. 

"  No  good  a  club,"  said  Stanislarni.    "  Teeths.    Dam' ! 


n8  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

I  want  George  Washington,  Abraham  Lincoln,  and 
Mister  Thaddeous  Roosevelt.    Teeths !    Dam' !  " 

Followed  by  his  subservient  brother  he  clattered  down 
the  stairs,  not  in  the  least  minding  that  he  walked  all  over 
'Statia.  Indeed,  she  was  upstairs  before  they  were 
down. 

"  Don't  yer  care,"  she  grinned.  "  You  lemme  take 
one  them  brushes  and  I'll  use  it  good  on  all  the  small 
kids.     They's  too  little  to  kick." 

Arthur  essayed  to  append  something  of  the  doctrine 
concerning  individuality  in  toilet  matters,  but  she  refused 
to  listen.  Pocketing  the  wax-paper  packet  neatly  by 
putting  it  down  her  neck — as  the  heroine  does  all  in- 
criminating documents  in  the  melodrama — she  mean- 
dered about,  touching  everything  and  approving  generally. 

"  These  chairs  is  nice.  Slocumbs',  ain't  they  ?  Do 
they  stay  out  here  always  ?  "  Then,  seeing  the  games, 
"What  for?" 

Arthur  endeavored  to  explain.  She  recognized  domi- 
noes, but  the  beautiful  Go  Bang  board  appealed  most 
heartily. 

At  nine  o'clock,  when  Abner  Slocumb  crept  out  to  see 
how  the  experiment  was  resulting,  he  found  a  dirty  little 
girl  and  a  pale-faced  youth  playing  their  seventh  game 
of  Go  Bang  by  the  waning  flame  of  the  lantern. 

"  Light  her  'long  the  road  a  piece,"  said  Abner,  but 
'Statia  didn't  need  such  attention.  She  ran  off  gaily, 
yelling,  "  Sure  I  come  tomorrow.  And  bring  them  green- 
horns." 

"  Wal,  you  made  a  good  start  ?  "  asked  Abner. 

Arthur  didn't  know.  He  might  have  thought  he  had 
— because,  as  his  uncle  reminded  him,  a  girl  was  as  well 


"  HI-JINKS  "  IN  WEST  HOLLY  119 

worth  saving  as  a  boy,  but  her  next- to- farewell  request 
had  been  very  disquieting. 

"  I  s'pose  you  couldn't,  please,  mister,  gimme  a  chew?  " 
It  was  perfectly  evident  that  Arthur  had  a  good  sum- 
mer's work  cut  out  for  him  in  West  Holly. 


11 

True  to  her  promise,  'Statia  appeared  the  next  evening 
holding  two  younger  brothers  by  the  ear.  One  was  only 
Stepan,  not  yet  four,  but  his  sister  answered  for  him  as 
eligible  to  any  masculine  society,  since,  if  any  one  would 
give  him  a  cigarette,  he  would  smoke  it  and  swallow  the 
butt  just  as  skilfully  as  she  could  do  it  herself. 

"  Here,  you,  mister,  they  wants  to  wash  their  teeths. 
They  wants  to  wash  their  teeths  all  the  time.  Shut 
up,  Stepan !  Ain't  I  a-telling  you  ?  Don't  you  go  putting 
your  talk  in.  Oh,  mister,  I  'most  killed  our  baby.  He 
ain't  got  washing  size  teeths,  but  I  didn't  think." 

"  Say,"  said  Uncle  Abner,  who  exercised  a  general 
oversight  in  the  evening  sessions  for  which  he  bought 
kerosene  and  Nancy  baked  gingersnaps,  "  why  don't  the 
biggest  boy  come  round  ?  "  And  "  He  went  off  mad," 
said  Arthur,  "  saying  something  about  Roosevelt  and 
Washington.  Of  course  I'm  not  stuck  on  myself  to  that 
extent.     I  couldn't  keep  school." 

Abner  reflected.  "  I  sh'd  judge,"  he  remarked,  "  that 
Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  business  was  just  a  sort  of 
washing-machine." 

His  words  had  effect.  Arthur  burrowed  in  the  old 
bookcase  and  disinterred  Edison's  comprehensive  en- 
cyclopedia.    It  was  rather  disgusting  that  he,  a  well- 


120  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

educated  American  boy,  didn't  feel  equal  to  telling  Stanis- 
larni  Natupski  about  the  Father  of  his  Country.  But 
wood-carving,  botany,  and  laboratory  work  did  take  such 
a  lot  of  time! 

He  sent  a  polite  message,  which  he  hoped  was  properly 
delivered,  to  Stanislarni,  announcing  the  immortal  Wash- 
ington as  a  topic,  and  the  thirteen-year-older  con- 
descended to  come  and  shove  his  sister  from  her  pet  seat 
in  the  chair  cradle,  at  the  end  of  the  table. 

Stanislarni  listened,  low-browed,  to  the  Cherry  Tree 
story,  to  the  Crossing  of  the  Delaware,  to  the  sufferings 
at  Valley  Forge,  to  the  insults  put  upon  the  first  president 
by  John  Hancock,  to  the  greetings  of  the  maids  at  Tren- 
ton personating  the  thirteen  states. 

"  Huh,"  commented  young  Poland,  "  not  so  much. 
He  wasn't  great  as  the  great  Sobieski." 

Arthur  realized,  with  a  pang,  he  had  never  heard  of 
the  great  Sobieski.  However,  he  decided  if  Stanislarni 
wanted  American  statesmen  he  should  have  them,  and 
promised  Abraham  Lincoln  for  the  next  night.  Stanis- 
larni listened,  but  still  gave  the  palm  to  the  great 
Sobieski. 

"  He  stayed  back,  did  Aberham  Lincoln,"  was  the 
crushing  criticism  of  the  man  who  raised  millions  for 
defense. 

"  But  he  wasn't  a  soldier,"  explained  Arthur.  "  The 
country  needed  him  to  get  money  for  the  great  war,  and 
men.    It  was  his  duty  to  stay  in  the  White  House." 

"  Poh  for  such  a  president,"  sneered  Stanislarni. 
"  The  great  Sobieski  did  not  do  so.  He  ride  front  of  all 
mans,  waving  sword,  hollering  Come  on!  He  not  get 
killed  any  theater  show.    He  the  great  Sobieski !  " 


"  HI-JINKS  "  IN  WEST  HOLLY  121 

Again  Arthur  realized,  with  a  pang,  that  he  had  never 
heard  of  the  great  Sobieski.  So  of  course  he  couldn't 
be  very  great!  Following  an  example  in  vogue  long 
before  the  March  Hare  employed  it  as  a  means  of  ex- 
trication from  conversational  tangles,  he  was  about  to 
propose  a  change  of  subject,  when  'Statia  bobbed  up  and 
saved  him  the  trouble. 

"  Shucks  for  great  Sobieskis !  "  she  cried.  "  We  ain't 
Polisher  no  more.  We're  American.  Aberham  Wash- 
ington is  the  Father  of  my  Country  anyhow,  and 
Wajeiceh  and  Stepan's.  Shut  up,  kids.  I'm  a-telling 
you.  Now  I  suppose  you  couldn't,  please,  mister,  tell  us 
some  those  Hi- Jinks." 

Hygiene  was  what  she  really  enjoyed,  and  Arthur 
responded  with  a  few  words  on  "  Mastication  of  Food." 
Stanislarni  remained,  but  only  to  request  a  literary  pro- 
gram next. 

"  Sure  I  come  some  more,"  he  said,  when  Arthur 
timidly  suggested  a  desire  for  the  pleasure  of  his  com- 
pany. "  You  shall  tell  me  Longfellow,  Shakspere,  Miss 
Beecher  Toe,  Lowell,  Mass.,  and  Lord  God  Byron." 

"  Arthur  appears  to  have  considerable  of  a  job  laid 
out,"  remarked  Aunt  Nancy,  after  a  peep  into  the  sitting- 
room,  where  all  the  poetry  in  the  house  was  assem- 
bled. 

"  Hain't  heard  no  complaint  of  late  concerning  his  not 
having  nothing  to  do,"  returned  Uncle  Abner. 

Arthur  felt  pride  in  the  result  of  his  literary  cram- 
ming. He  took  Longfellow  to  the  bridge  by  moonlight, 
and  then  later  he  took  him  out  and  buried  him  and  put  up 
his  monument  in  quite  another  place  at  Mt.  Auburn;  he 
compressed  Shakspere  into  five  hundred  words,  credited 


122  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

Mrs.  Stowe  with  starting  the  Civil  War,  sent  Lowell  as 
Ambassador  to  England,  and  let  Byron  die  with  gallan- 
try in  Greece. 

"  Huh,"  said  Stanislarni,  "  didn't  they  make  no  poetry? 
The  great  Mickiewicz  he  made  poetry." 

Of  course  Arthur  had  never  heard  of  the  great  Mickie- 
wicz, but  his  chief  regret  was  for  not  having  understood 
Stanislarni's  want.  Why  had  he  not  prepared  himself  to 
repeat  "  The  Psalm  of  Life  "  and  "  To  Be  or  Not  to 
Be  ?  "  instead  of  getting  upa  "  theme  "  ? 

As  usual,  'Statia  came  to  the  fore. 

"  Say,  mister,  don't  get  a  peeve  on  Stanislarni.  Tatulo 
— papa — talks  all  time  on  great  Mickiewicz;  but  those 
readings  about  Coopies  in  the  magazine  teacher  has  to 
school  is  more  nicer.  Now  I  like  we  should  learn  about 
teeth  some  more.     Stanislarni  never  heard  that." 

But  the  oldest  Natupski  firmly  declined  any  but  ethical 
information. 

"  Teeths  to  hell,"  he  observed,  with  a  succinctness  at 
which  Arthur  alone  shuddered.  "  Come  on,  now,  you  tell 
some  American  poetry  and  I'll  tell  some  the  great 
Mickiewicz  made." 

Arthur  brisked  up.  "  Oh,  a  debate !  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  That  would  be  fun.  And  we'll  ask  Uncle  Abner  to 
judge." 

"  Such  foolishers,  you  boys,"  sneered  'Statia.  "  Stan- 
islarni can  say  it  in  Polish.    Tha's  all." 

A  cloud  settled  over  the  assembly,  until  it  appeared 
that  the  girl  had  stuck  up  the  bogy  only  to  have  the 
pleasure  of  knocking  it  down. 

"  Here,  lemme  tell  you.  Stanislarni  learn  the  Ameri- 
can, and  you,  mister " 


"  HI-JINKS  "  IN  WEST  HOLLY  123 

"Good!"  cried  Arthur.  "I'll  send  for  a  translation 
tomorrow." 

'Statia  was  somewhat  bewildered,  having  probably 
thought  Arthur  could  easily  master  the  Polish  tongue  in 
a  few  days,  and  Stanislarni  inquired  in  surprise  if  all 
"  greats  "  were  in  American  books. 

"English?"  said  Arthur.     "I  suppose  so." 

Then  why,  Stanislarni  wanted  to  know,  were  any  of 
the  people  in  his  adopted  country  ignorant  of  the  great 
Mickiewicz  ? 

Arthur  didn't  stop  to  think  up  an  explanation,  he  was 
trying  to  keep  'Statia  from  considering  herself  part  of 
the  debating  team.  In  the  end  she  was  forcibly  self- 
annexed  to  Arthur's  side  with  the  announcement  that 
tatulo  had  "  teached  her  a  say."  To  make  matters  even 
Wajeiceh  and  Stepan  were  turned  over  to  Stanislarni. 
"  Let  him  have  'em  both,  mister,"  she  remarked.  "  I 
guess  they  ain't  no  good." 

Since  it  had  been  impossible  to  hide  any  light  under 
any  bushel  in  West  Holly  after  the  introduction  of  the 
rural  'phone,  the  fact  that  Abner  Slocumb's  nephew  from 
the  city  had  started  a  club  to  take  in  the  Natupski  children 
had  been  common  property  from  the  start.  Now  Arthur 
found  that  the  coming  literary  trial  was  to  be  attended 
not  only  by  Uncle  Abner  and  Aunt  Nancy,  but  by  Mr. 
Hiram  Farrar  of  the  school  board  and  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Skeele  of  the  Methodist  church. 

Arthur  made  the  shed  chamber  extra  clean  and  incited 
'Statia  to  helping  him  weave  garlands  of  oak  leaves  and 
ground  evergreen.  Wajeiceh  and  Stepan  were  drafted, 
by  their  energetic  sister,  into  helping.  Only  Stanislarni 
held  aloof.     He  was   fully   occupied   in   trying  to   re- 


i24  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

member — not  the  words  of  his  selected  poem,  but  where 
to  put  his  hands  when  reciting.  Arthur,  training  his 
opponent  with  great  conscientiousness,  had  said,  "  Oh, 
no,  don't  wipe  'em  on  your  sides — no,  nor  wave  'em  in 
the  air — no,  indeed,  you  must  not  scratch  your  head — let 
'em  hang  easy — see,  like  mine." 

"  Sure,"  said  'Statia,  who  assisted  at  everything. 
"  Like  mister's,  easy,  right  on  the  bend  in  his  pants." 

Arthur  flushed.  He  hadn't  been  aware  that  the  crease 
Aunt  Nancy  had  so  obligingly  pressed  into  his  serge 
trousers  was  so  very  noticeable! 

The  evening  arrived,  Mr.  Farrar  perspired  in  shirt 
sleeves,  and  the  minister  looked  cool,  as  a  minister  must, 
in  a  black  coat.  Nancy  had  invited  several  of  the 
neighbor  women  to  hear  the  children  speak  pieces.  With 
her  they  sat  on  the  cradle  bench  and  waved  palm  leafs. 
Mr.  Natupski  had  come,  armed  with  his  goad.  'Statia 
whispered  to  Arthur  that  he  was  going  to  lick  whoever 
forgot.  Mrs.  Natupski  couldn't  come.  Tadcuse  was 
having  all  the  afflictions  of  a  baby's  second  summer. 
They  wouldn't  kill  him,  but  they  were  severe,  so  Mrs. 
Natupski  couldn't  come. 

The  shed  chamber  was  a  pretty  sight,  adorned  with 
green  garlands;  on  the  table  glowed  a  great  bunch  of 
marigolds,  and  golden  rod  and  asters  had  been  tacked  all 
round  the  window  space,  making  a  frame  for  the  night. 
Evidence  of  successful  lectures  on  hygiene  was  visible  in 
the  clean  face  and  hands  of  'Statia  and  the  relatively 
decent  appearance  of  Wajeiceh.  Stanislarni,  it  was 
rumored,  would  not  wash  until  he  might  have  to,  when 
school  began. 

The  selection  for  Wajeiceh  had  been  made  by  Stanis- 


"  HI-JINKS  "  IN  WEST  HOLLY  125 

larni,  without  reference  to  his  comparative  lack  of  ac- 
quaintance with  the  English  tongue.  Never,  perhaps, 
had  such  work  been  made  of  "  Spartacus  to  the  Gladi- 
ators." Mr.  Farrar  and  Abner  had  to  laugh,  but  ex- 
cused themselves  by  saying  they  remembered  choosing 
that  piece  when  they  had  to  speak  Fridays  in  the  old  red 
schoolhouse. 

Then  Stanislarni  rose  and  began  in  a  rumbling  young 
bass  voice: 

"  What,  Phoebe,  are  you  come  so  soon — 
Where  are  your  berries,  child?" 

He  went  on,  in  a  manner  beautifully  serious,  to  give 
the  whole  twenty-eight  stanzas  of  that  immortal  poem; 
indeed,  with  hardly  a  pause,  he  followed  it  with  the  next 
seventeen  of  "  The  Blackberry  Girl  at  Church."  Arthur 
was  prepared  for  a  start  of  surprise  when  that  young 
ruffian — for  Stanislarni  was  big  for  his  age,  and  had  a 
well-deserved  reputation  for  pugnaciousness  in  the 
neighborhood — repeated  this  mawkishly  sentimental 
story  of  old-fashioned  almsgiving.  It  had  been  young 
Natupski's  own  choice  from  a  book  of  "  Selections."  He 
was  by  no  means  deterred  when  Arthur  had  explained 
shrilly  it  wasn't  real  poetry  or  written  by  any  one 
"  great." 

But  the  club  director  was  not  prepared  for  the  chalking 
of  a  white  line  down  the  middle  of  each  Stanislarni  leg, 
soberly  arranged  by  'Statia  just  before  the  big  boy 
stepped  to  the  front. 

"  Because  his  pants  don't  bend,"  she  explained,  nodding 
intelligently  to  the  rather  astonished  audience. 


126  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

The  English  tongue  having  had  adequate  representa- 
tion, it  was  now  Poland's  turn. 

"  Miss  Anastasia  Natupski  will  now  recite  two  poems 
of  Adam  Mickiewicz,  the  most  famous  poet  of  Poland," 
said  Arthur,  in  the  easy  manner  he  had  acquired  at  the 
O.  W.  Holmes  Guild,  "  and  I  will  give  them  in  English." 

Miss  Anastasia  swelled  with  pride  at  her  fine  name, 
and  spoke  glibly.  She  knew  she  alone  had  to  fear  papa's 
goad;  he  couldn't  be  sure  if  the  rest  spoke  correctly  or 
otherwise. 

Arthur  got  up  rather  wearily.  He  had  been  trotting 
about  all  day  absorbed,  like  Martha,  in  many  cares;  he 
had  sweltered  in  the  hillside  pasture  pulling  up  ground 
pine,  he  had  been  worried  with  drilling  the  poor  little 
boy,  who  ought,  by  rights,  to  have  been  required  to  lisp 
nothing  more  difficult  than  "  I  love  little  kitty  "  or  "  Mary 
had  a  lamb."  The  book  with  the  translation  had  not  ar- 
rived until  the  last  minute,  he  had  committed  his  lines  to 
memory  in  the  midst  of  sweeping,  lugging  chairs,  and 
helping  Aunt  Nancy  with  the  "  refreshments."  With 
the  polite,  well-drilled  inanity  of  his  excellently  inten- 
tioned  but  shallow  nature,  he  began: 

The  Father's  Return 

Go,  children,  all  together  go 

Unto  the  pillar  on  the  hill, 
Before  the  picture  there  bow  low, 

For  father  pray  with  all  thy  will. 

For  father  still  is  far  away, 

Where  streams  are  swol'n  and  wild  beasts  howl, 


"  HI- JINKS  "  IN  WEST  HOLLY  127 

And  seeking  us,  by  night  or  day, 
Must  pass  the  wood  where  robbers  prowl. 

In  a  pleasant  tone  Arthur  told  the  story — the  children 
prayed,  then  was  heard  "  the  sound  of  wheels  approach- 
ing," and  father  arrives,  asking: 

And  is  mother  well,  your  aunt  and  the  maids — 
Here  are  grapes  in  the  basket,  boys. 

Then  glee  resounds  in  the  wooded  glades, 
And  the  air  is  rent  with  noise. 

Soon,  however,  joy  turns  to  grief,  for  the  robbers 
leap  forth  and  the  father  is  being  borne  away,  when  the 
leader  of  the  band,  "  mustached,  with  saber  drawn," 
orders  him  liberated.  While  lying  in  wait  he  had,  it 
seemed,  overheard  the  prayer  of  the  children : 

Though  I  listened  at  first  with  laugh  derisive, 
Soon  to  pity  my  heart  was  stirred.  ^ 

Merchant,  depart — to  the  woods  I  go — 
And,  children,  come  sometimes  here, 

Before  the  pillar,  bending  low, 
Give  me  a  prayer  and  a  tear. 

It  was  completed,  and  lo,  a  miracle. 

Arthur  fell  in  love!  And  though  it  was  only  with  an 
author  and  a  poem,  it  was  as  deep  and  sincere  a  love  as 
could  be  given  to  any  earthly  object.  This  was  indeed 
the  great  Mickiewicz — he  knew  it,  he  felt  it.  No  wonder 
Stanislarni  had  been  impatient  of  the  pabulum  spread 


128  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

before  him.  Others  felt  as  Arthur  did,  too.  The  wist- 
ful story  had  brought  tears  to  the  eyes  of  Aunt  Nancy 
and  the  minister,  while  even  Uncle  Abner  looked  as  he 
did  at  church.  Mr.  Natupski  appeared  startled  at  hear- 
ing his  favorite  author  in  an  English  version.  Before  the 
end  of  the  poem  he  abruptly  rose  and  threw  his  goad  out 
of  the  window. 

Thus  there  was  nothing  for  him  to  do  but  pull  his  hair 
when,  by  way  of  a  surprise,  "  Miss  Anastasia  "  offered 
what  she  said  was 

Jeszcze  Polska  nie  zginela 

and  which  Arthur  then  gave  as 

Poland  is  not  yet  lost. 

In  unison  (and  English)  they  piped  up 

While  we  live  she  is  existing, 
Poland  is  not  fallen — 

and  Mr.  Natupski  growled  in  the  chorus, 

March,  march,  Dombrowski, 

From  Italy's  plain. 
Our  brethren  shall  meet  us 

In  Poland  again. 

Arthur  sat  down,  the  exaltation  of  his  mind  showing 
in  his  eyes.  He  was  firmly  determined  that  whatever 
happened  the  next  winter,  he  would  read  everything 


"  HI-JINKS  "  IN  WEST  HOLLY  129 

Englished  of  Mickiewicz  and  Wybicki.  The  company 
drew  numerous  long  breaths,  and  was  only  just  able  to 
come  back  to  earth  at  the  sight  of  lemonade  and  jelly  roll 
cake. 

Able,  also,  to  talk  of  the  sensation. 

"  Well,  I  vum,"  said  Mr.  Farrar,  "  I  never  knew  there 
was  anybody  wrote  any  poetry  come  up  to  Whittier's 
1  Barefoot  Boy,'  but  I  must  say — I  s'pose,  Mr.  Skeele, 
you've  read  all  this  Mr.  Mikkywitz  ever  wrote?  " 

The  minister  shook  his  head,  smiling. 

"  But  I'm  going  to,"  he  remarked,  exchanging  a  look 
of  intelligence  with  Arthur. 

The  three  gentlemen  judges  announced  the  Polish 
authors  to  have  "  won  out,"  and  the  copy  of  "  One 
Hundred  Choice  Selections  "  which  Abner  Slocumb  had 
provided  as  a  prize  was  given  to  'Statia,  who  employed  it 
variously  during  the  evening  to  bang  her  younger  brothers 
into  good  behavior  and  to  strike  envy  to  the  heart  of 
Stanislarni.  That  young  gentleman  was  in  the  position 
of  the  reformer  who  lives  to  find  himself  the  victim  of 
his  theories.  He  had  bragged  of  the  great  Mickiewicz 
until  even  these  Americans  came  to  believe  it  just  about 
the  time  he  was  coming  to  believe  in  other  greatness.  He 
guessed,  anyhow,  it  all  came  from  letting  a  girl  in.  That 
about  "  teeths  "  was  just  meant  for  a  girl.  He  ostentar 
tiously  erased  the  chalk  mark  from  each  leg,  and  decided 
he  would  never  have  a  real  bend  in  his  pants — a  reform 
to  which  he  had  been  almost  persuaded  earlier  in  the 
evening.  He  wouldn't  go  to  school  any  more,  either. 
Books  were  no  use.  He  would  do  like  tatulo  wanted,  go 
into  the  Mifflin  Mills,  earn  a  heap  of  money — as  much  as 
five  dollars  a  week — and  in  a  few  years  have  a  farm 


130  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

like  papa.  That  was  the  thing  to  do.  Papa  could  fix  up  a 
paper  saying  he  had  been  born  over  sixteen  years  ago  in 
Poland. 

It  was  but  a  short  time  that  the  lantern  hung  o'  nights 
in  Abner  Slocumb's  shed  chamber.  Arthur  went  back 
to  the  city,  and  was  only  known  to  the  Natupskis  as  the 
sender  of  frequent  souvenir  postal  cards.  One  winter 
day,  on  returning  from  a  strenuous  session  of  the  O.  W. 
Holmes  Guild,  he  found  his  mother  smiling  over  a  letter 
from  Uncle  Abner.  There  was  a  postscript. 
# 

Tell  Arthur  Stanylarny  Natupski  is  gone  to  work  in 
the  mill  where  the  hands  live  in  hording  houses  sleping 
three  in  a  bed  for  the  day  shift  same  for  night  adding  up 
to  half  dozen  and  no  chance  to  air  or  turn  matras  on  a 
forged  school  cirtifycate.  Stacy  is  doing  better.  She 
tole  her  ma  she  wold  wash  her  neck  whatever  the  weather 
and  not  with  the  kind  of  sope  floors  is  washed  with 
neither.  So  he  has  not  lived  in  vane  for  its  as  much  to 
save  a  girl  as  a  boy  and  so  your  ant  thinks  too. 

Arthur  believed  his  work  had  not  been  without  due 
reward,  for  if  he  hadn't  taught  the  Natupskis  much,  the 
Natupskis  had  taught  him  a  good  deal — even  more  than 
appreciation  for  Mickiewicz  and  the  great  Sobieski, 
though  that  was  much. 

As  for  Stanislarni,  he  gave  him  up,  even  to  the  extent 
of  cutting  him  from  the  souvenir  card  list.  Arthur  was 
a  good  sort,  but  un-eyed  for  the  future.  He  could  not 
discern  when  and  where  he  would  next  find  the  name  of 
Natupski,  and  in  what  juxtaposition  to  his  own. 


VII 
EMANCIPATION  FOR  ONE 

It  could  not  be  denied  that  America  was  having  its 
effect  on  the  Natupskis.  Stanislarni,  over  at  Mifflin 
Grove,  had  gone  into  a  Chinese  restaurant,  eaten  chop 
suey,  and  pronounced  it  "  darn  good."  He  said  all 
Americans  thought  it  was  darn  good.  Wajeiceh  wanted 
to  argue  with  his  father  when  his  father  refused  to  tell 
for  what  reason  the  boy  would  have  a  whipping.  It  was 
his  assertion  that  no  American  father  licked  a  boy  with- 
out a  reason.  Did  ever  any  one  hear  of  such  nonsense  ? 
Nine-year-old  'Rinka  and  seven-year-old  Kazia  said 
teacher  said  they  should  learn  their  lessons  and  go  to 
bed,  instead  of  staying  in  the  barn  until  midnight  drop- 
ping ears  into  the  corn-sheller.  She  said  she  didn't  keep 
a  school  for  kids  to  sleep  in.  What  d'ye  say  to  that  talk, 
tatulo? 

Only  Mrs.  Natupski  did  not  seem  in  the  least  recon- 
structed. She  plodded  on  in  the  old  country  ways  until 
even  her  very  own  children  wished  she  wouldn't.  First, 
from  'Statia's  lips,  came  a  sneering  "  Greenhorn ! " 

Mrs.  Natupski  made  no  reply,  and  'Statia  thought  she 
didn't  notice,  but  she  did.  She  could  think  of  a  great 
many  replies,  but  there  was  difficulty  in  employing  them, 
because  Mrs.  Natupski  had  never  really  learned  to  speak 
English,  while  'Statia  was  rapidly  forgetting  her  little 
Polish  speech.    On  the  whole,  thought  Mrs.  Natupski,  it 

131 


132  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

would  be  better  to  tell  Kani.  She  might  be  too  hard  on 
the  girl,  herself,  for  she  was  always  a  stepmother,  and 
on  this  day  felt  like  it.  It  would  be  a  revelation  to  'Statia 
to  learn  suddenly  what  a  stepmother  reared  in  Poland 
might  do  to  a  disobedient  stepdaughter. 

Mrs.  Natupski  did  not  expect  sympathy  from  her  hus- 
band, but  his  goad  was  generally  so  ready  for  action  that 
Kani  did  not  hold  it  in  restraint  even  when  it  was  only 
to  be  employed  in  avenging  a  mere  insult  to  his  wife. 
But  this  time  papa  was  on  'Statia's  side.  He  absolutely 
refused  to  beat  the  girl.  'Statia  was  only  getting  Ameri- 
can. He  liked  that.  He  hoped  all  the  children  would 
get  American.  And  he  was  going  to  buy  a  threshing- 
machine  and  no  longer  do  it  with  flails  like  in  the  old 
country.    As  for  what  'Statia  said — wasn't  it  true? 

And  he  went  out  with  a  swagger  that  showed  he  was 
wearing  high-heeled,  box-toed  tan  shoes,  with  white 
buttons  on  them ! 

Mrs.  Natupski  reflected.  So  she  was  a  greenhorn, 
and  worthy  of  being  so  called  ?  She,  the  mother  of  seven, 
who  had  always  done  her  share  of  the  field  work,  and 
more  than  her  share  of  the  barn  work,  whatever  her  ma- 
ternal duties  or  her  household  cares. 

She  looked  on  the  next  farm,  and  what  did  she  see  ? 

Nancy  Slocumb,  American  without  "  getting "  that 
way.  Nancy  rose  at  the  advanced  hour  of  6.30,  after 
Abner  had  started  the  fires,  filled  the  tea  kettle,  ground 
the  coffee,  and  put  the  potatoes  boiling.  Did  Nancy  do 
her  share  of  work  out  of  doors?  Far  from  it.  Mrs. 
Natupski  had  heard  her  calling  Abner  when  she  wanted 
so  much  as  a  head  of  lettuce  from  the  garden. 

Setting  her  lips  and  nodding  her  head,  Mrs.  Natupski 


EMANCIPATION  FOR  ONE  133 

made  up  her  mind  that  Kani  had  temporarily  gone  astray. 
When  the  shoes  were  worn  out  perhaps  he  would  come  to 
his  senses.  And  in  the  meanwhile  he  must  be  paying  for 
the  thresher. 

Stanislarni  gave  the  next  jolt.  He  was  her  own  son, 
and  her  first-born,  so  that  the  hurt  from  him  far  worsted 
'Statia's.  He  came  by  the  turnip  field,  one  holiday,  with 
a  half-dozen  mates — American  boys  from  the  grammar 
school  in  the  village  by  the  depot.  Mrs.  Natupski  stopped 
work  and  waved  her  hoe  with  a  shout,  but  Stanislarni 
hurried  on,  while  the  other  boys  laughed.  Mrs.  Natupski 
stood  in  the  mud,  stonily  thinking.  She  did  not  realize 
the  picture  she  made,  wearing  Kani's  worn-out  boots,  a 
draggled  skirt  hanging  in  scallops,  a  jacket  of  Stanis- 
larni's  own  from  which  all  her  wizened  arms  protruded 
below  the  elbow,  and  with  her  dark  hair  tied  under  a 
filthy  red  and  yellow  rag  that  in  every  thread  proclaimed 
its  old  country  origin. 

She  finished  the  field  before  she  went  back  to  the  house 
and  hung  the  hoe  on  a  horizontal  apple-tree  limb  already 
decorated  with  a  row  of  scythes.  Perhaps  she  might 
never  take  it  down  again ! 

Next  day  she  went  raspberrying.  Kani  had  not  ex- 
pected her  to  go;  instead  he  had  laid  out  for  her  some- 
thing like  a  hired  man's  full  day,  and  a  few  duties  over. 
But  she  went  raspberrying,  and  lugged  the  pails  of  red 
berries  halfway  round  the  mountain,  where  she  sold 
them  to  Mrs.  Blanchard  Bowes. 

Whereby  the  Bowes  family  indulged  in  a  luscious  short- 
cake; Mrs.  Natupski  put  forty  cents  into  an  old  stocking, 
and  Kani  detailed  plans  for  the  morrow,  to  include  all 
that  day's  work  added  to  as  much  more.     But  Mrs. 


134  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

Natupski  picked  raspberries  while  they  lasted,  then  began 
on  huckleberries,  went  on  with  them  until  blueberries, 
taking  a  detour  into  blackberries — low  bush  followed  by 
high.  Of  course  she  could  not  do  this  every  day,  without 
being  brought  openly  to  account,  and  in  her  quiet  way  she 
decided  the  time  for  that  was  yet  to  come.  She  resumed 
the  hoe  and  rake,  and  worked  ably  five  days  out  of  six, 
but  the  sixth  was  sure  to  find  her  missing,  and  she  alone 
knew  how  the  stocking-hoard  grew. 

Once  she  took  her  berries  to  a  house  way  down  the 
road  to  Hamson,  where  she  had  never  stopped  before.  It 
was  a  tiny  cottage,  very  clean  and  sparkling,  from  pris- 
matic window-glass  to  whitewashed  stones  outlining 
the  path  to  the  barn.  Even  the  grass  seemed  less  dusty 
here  than  in  any  other  dooryard  that  sultry  August,  and 
the  scarlet  runners  trained  on  strings  beside  the  wee 
porch  had  certainly  been  sponged  off  that  very  after- 
noon. 

Mrs.  Natupski  knocked  and  a  woman  of  about  her  own 
age  came  to  the  door.  Like  her  house,  she  was  not  very 
beautiful,  but  exquisitely  clean.  She  said  the  berries 
were  "  fine  and  dandy,"  and  made  Mrs.  Natupski  come 
in. 

"  You  poor  thing,  you,"  she  observed,  "  you  must  be 
all  tuckered  out.  Set  ye  down  and  I'll  fetch  a  cooling 
drink." 

Mrs.  Natupski  perched  on  the  edge  of  a  wooden  chair 
that  glistened  with  three  coats  of  thick  yellow  paint,  until 
the  woman  came  back  with  a  big  goblet  of  sweetened 
water — the  combination  of  molasses,  ginger,  and  HzO 
once  popular  in  haying  time — and  then  it  was  evident  the 
hostess  intended  to  take  her  pay  in  sociability. 


EMANCIPATION  FOR  ONE  135 

"  Say,"  she  began,  "  it's  pretty  plain  we're  both  in 
the  same  boat.  I'm  right  glad  you  happened  along,  too, 
for  it's  my  first,  and  I'm  scart  out  my  wits  in  this  out 
place.  Husband  says  we  can  get  a  doctor  in  half  a  jiffy, 
with  the  telephone  and  all,  but  what  if  it  was  in  the  night 
and  the  girl  in  Central  asleep?  Does  she  keep  awake, 
I'd  like  to  know  ?  And  would  she  be  willing  to  drink  lots 
o'  coffee  about  then,  so's  to  be  sure  o'  not  closing  her 
eyes?  Another  worry,  too,  is  about  getting  some  one  to 
come  and  stay.  We've  got  a  reg'lar  city  nurse  for  ten 
days,  but  of  course  it  will  be  some  time  after  that  before 
I'm  around,  and  there  don't  seem  to  be  nobody  in  this 
neighborhood  that  wants  to  hire  out.  How  do  you 
manage  ? " 

Mrs.  Natupski  understood  two-thirds  of  this,  and 
rather  wished  she  was  able  to  reply.  How  did  she 
manage?  Why,  sometimes,  if  it  were  winter,  she  did 
not  go  to  the  barn  for  as  much  as  a  week.  Otherwise 
an  addition  to  the  family  meant  practically  no  change  in 
her  habits.  As  she  was  unable  to  answer  she  smiled 
again,  and  said,  shaking  her  head,  "  Me  Polander." 

"  Oh,  you're  one  o'  them  families  up  on  the  mountain  ? 
Well,  stay  and  rest  a  piece,  do,  even  if  we  can't  have  a 
dish  o'  gossip.  I'll  go  on  with  my  work,  if  it's  all  the 
same.     I'm  in  something  of  a  hurry." 

She  was  busy  with  a  new  wire  dish  drainer,  and  Mrs. 
Natupski  hitched  her  chair  nearer  to  see.  First  she  drew 
on  a  covering  of  pale  blue  cambric,  and  then  fitted  a 
dainty  slip  of  dotted  white  muslin  with  bows  of  blue 
ribbon.  There  were  little  pockets  in  the  muslin,  and 
these  she  proceeded  to  fill.  A  white  brush  went  into  one, 
a  wash  cloth  sealed  in  wax  paper  into  another,  and  then 


136  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

appeared  a  regiment  of  pins,  big  and  little,  and  various 
shaped  cushions  to  hold  them. 

"Cute,  eh?"  the  woman  laughed,  holding  the  com- 
pleted basket  aloft.  "  And  light  as  a  feather.  Only  ten 
cents,  too — I  mean  the  drainer." 

Seeing  the  other's  intentness,  she  continued,  "  If  you 
want  to  wait  I'll  hyper  upstairs  and  get  all  my  things. 
They  ain't  so  fancy,  but  I  did  'em  myself,  every  stitch." 

Mrs.  Natupski  did  wait,  and  handled  the  soft  flannels, 
the  white  slips,  the  pink  "  outing "  kimono,  and  the 
knitted  cap  with  reverence. 

M  Got  your  things  ready?  "  asked  the  woman,  with  the 
careless  curiosity  of  a  neighbor. 

"  Niel"  and  Mrs.  Natupski  shook  her  head.  She 
never  had  anything  ready.  The  newest  member  of  her 
family  simply  had  to  take  a  chance  of  being  wrapped  in 
something  none  of  the  rest  was  wearing. 

"  Oh,  well,  p'r'aps  you  got  lots  o'  time.  Or  maybe 
you  buy  yourn.  You  can  get  real  nice  layouts  all  com- 
plete— layettes  they  call  'em,  goodness  only  knows  why. 
He  got  me  a  catalogue  of  one  them  mail-order  houses, 
but  I'd  ruther  make  mine.  Here  'tis;  possibly  you'd  like 
to  look  it  over." 

She  thrust  into  Mrs.  Natupski's  hand  the  twelve-pound 
book  wherein  was  listed  every  known  commodity,  from 
malachite  roofing  to  horseshoe  nails.  It  opened  of  itself 
at  the  layettes,  and  the  hostess  pointed  out  the  one  she 
liked  best. 

"  Everything  plain,  but  the  picshures  say  neat,  and 
plenty  enough  for  a  summer  or  fall  baby,  when  you  can 
get  to  do  washing  regular.  Only  $6.98.  I  d'know  but 
I'd  try  it  another  time.     One  gets  tired  sewing,  and  it's 


EMANCIPATION  FOR  ONE  137 

mighty  easy  to  mark  that  cowpon,  No.  5,  put  the  money 
in  a  invellup,  and  nothing  more.  Well,  must  you  be 
going?  Come  again,  any  time  you  get  so  fur.  I'm  al- 
ways glad  to  see  a  friendly  face." 

The  catalogue  weighed  more  than  two  pails  of  berries, 
but  Mrs.  Natupski  did  not  mind.  She  was  in  a  hurry 
to  count  the  contents  of  the  stocking  and  see  what  she 
could  make  of  the  puzzling  American  coins. 

Anything  above  fifty  cents  being  beyond  her  com- 
prehension, she  was  obliged  to  call  on  'Statia  for  help. 

"  My,  my,  mamma,  what  a  lot  o'  money/'  cried  the 
girl,  looking  admiration  at  the  accumulation  of  pennies 
and  nickels.  "  Did  papa  give  it  to  you  ?  Papa's  pretty 
good,  ain't  he?" 

"  How  much  ?  "  demanded  Mrs.  Natupski,  ignoring  the 
question. 

'Statia  put  the  different  coins  by  themselves,  and  after 
numerous  false  starts  and  long  pauses,  announced  the 
sum-total  of  seven  dollars  and  thirty-eight  cents. 

"  Gee,  mamma,"  she  chattered,  as  Mrs.  Natupski  pre- 
pared to  hide  the  hoard  in  her  bosom,  u  you  didn't  ought 
to  take  that  all  places  where  you  go.  It's  a  whole  lot. 
Why,  some  one  might  steal  it." 

"  Sure.  You  lose  it,  all  right !  "  Kani,  having  entered 
the  kitchen  in  time  to  see  the  money  disappearing,  now 
lounged  across  the  table,  and  giving  the  stocking  a  pull 
poured  the  coins  into  his  own  broad  hands. 

Mrs.  Natupski  silently  produced  the  catalogue,  which 
opened  of  itself  at  the  layettes,  and  pointed  out  the  $6.98 
outfit.  Then  she  raised  her  eyes  to  Kani,  and  dropped 
them  to  the  money,  which  represented  such  a  number  of 
aching  backs,  lacerated  fingers,  and  sunburns  on  her  part. 


138  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

Surely  he  would  see  that  she  was  at  last  trying  to  be 
an  American.  In  Poland  one  did  not  so,  but  this  was 
very  different  from  Poland,  as  Kani  and  'Statia  had  often 
reminded  her. 

Kani  rose  from  the  table,  with  his  favorite  grunt,  and 
poured  the  jingling  mass  into  his  pockets,  dividing  it 
pretty  equally  on  both  sides  of  his  khaki  trou- 
sers. 

"  Safe !  "  he  said,  condescendingly.  "  Me  not  get 
robbed.    Me  take  care  of  all  money." 

It  seemed  to  Mrs.  Natupski  that  she  had  always  known 
this  would  happen.  She  put  the  catalogue  into  the  stove 
with  her  regret  already  overcome  by  further  determina- 
tion. Some  day  she  and  Kani  would  have  it  out  with 
each  other.    Not  yet ! 

The  eighth  member  of  the  brood  arrived  one  hot  Sep- 
tember day,  and  lacking  a  layette  seemed  quite  healthy 
and  happy  dressed  in  nothing  particular,  and  the  fates 
undecided  whether  she  should  bear  an  old  country  name 
of  many  syllables  or  a  brisk  American  one  sounding 
like  a  sudden  cry  for  help. 

Kani  was  displeased,  not  only  because  the  child  failed 
to  be  another  boy,  but  by  the  way  his  wife  lay  on  the 
straw  tick,  smiling  pleasantly,  and  having  for  her  only 
occupation  the  keeping  comfortable  of  a  baby  that  had 
chosen  to  arrive  in  fly-time.  Why  didn't  she  get  up  and 
attend  to  things,  as  always  before?  Couldn't  she  know 
the  wheat  was  ready  to  reap,  the  apples  ripe  for  cart- 
ing to  the  vinegar  mill?  Did  she  feel  a  sickness  any- 
where, he  asked  anxiously,  whereat  she  shook  her  head 
and  settled  more  comfortably  in  bed.  Kani  didn't  know 
how  extremely  difficult  the  muscular  woman,  used  to 


EMANCIPATION  FOR  ONE  139 

constant  outdoor  activity,  was  finding  this  self-imposed 
rest.  He  could  not  see  her  jump  when  he  went  out,  and 
trot  from  window  to  window  in  her  bare  feet,  grinning  to 
note  how  things  lagged  for  want  of  her.  Determined  to 
keep  her  bed  ten  days,  Mrs.  Natupski  consulted  the 
calendar,  each  morning.  Hereon  she  had  marked  the 
day  of  her  release ;  it  gleamed  cheerfully  beneath  a  lugu- 
brious picture  of  a  bereaved  widow  (unprotected  by  life 
insurance)  scrubbing  a  living  for  her  children.  The 
calendar  was  a  tribute  from  the  agent,  who  hoped  to  land 
Natupski  (and  failed). 

On  Tuesday  she  would  get  up  and  resume  life  as  she 
lived  it.    Not  before. 

Saturday  she  descried  Kani  conversing  with  two  men 
of  their  own  nationality,  and  he  even  had  them  into  the 
kitchen  and  treated  to  the  cider  he  was  saving  for  the 
harvest.  Then  he  came  upstairs  and  asked  once  more 
if  she  felt  anywhere  sick?  Nie!  Then  why  did  she  not 
get  up  ?  She  only  shook  her  head  and  rustled  the  straw. 
Kani  came  nearer  and  his  face  assumed  its  occasional 
mask  of  anger.  She  should  get  up,  then,  if  he  was 
obliged  to  pull  the  bed  down.  He  had  the  harvesters 
coming  Monday,  and  she  must  go  out  and  bind.  No  one, 
and  well  she  knew  it,  was  so  skilful  at  the  binding.  He 
had  put  it  off  two  weeks  now,  the  grain  was  spoiling  and 
could  wait  no  longer.  She  must  get  up  and  be  ready  for 
work  by  Monday. 

"Nie!"  said  the  woman.  And  added  that  she  did 
not  stir  from  that  until  Tuesday. 

Kani  set  his  jaw  and  clenched  his  hands  until  the 
knuckles  turned  white.  Tuesday — what  nonsense!  That 
was  no  time  to  begin,  he  was  obliged  to  hire  the  men  for  a 


i4o  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

full  week.  The  work  was  promised  and  a  drink  had 
bound  the  bargain.  She  would  get  up  Monday.  If  she 
didn't — he  waved  his  hand  in  a  way  that  showed  how  he 
manipulated  the  ox-goad. 

Mrs.  Natupski,  left  to  her  own  reflections,  stole  a 
reassuring  look  at  the  calendar,  and  waited  for  the  eve 
of  Monday.  If  she  made  an  excursion  to  the  barn  before 
then  no  one  knew  it,  not  even  the  baby,  who  was  proving 
a  splendid  sleeper.  Sunday  evening  Mrs.  Natupski  called 
'Statia  before  supper  was  put  cooking.  What  was  there 
to  eat?  Oh,  just  the  bread  and  coffee.  Papa  said  if 
any  one  wanted  more  to  go  and  sneak  some  peaches  from 
the  Bowes'  orchard.  Mrs.  Natupski  handed  'Statia  a 
broken  cup  in  which  was  a  small  amount  of  white  powder. 

"  Tatulo,"  said  Mrs.  Natupski. 

'Statia  nodded.  She  supposed  it  was  sugar  that  Mrs. 
Slocumb  or  some  one  had  given  mamma  for  the  baby. 
As  the  quantity  was  so  small  'Statia  honorably  refrained 
from  dipping  even  a  moistened  finger  tip. 

Mrs.  Natupski,  listening  in  the  twilight,  heard  the 
meal  begin — the  scraping  of  chairs,  Kani's  sudden  ad- 
monitions to  the  children,  little  nose- just-out-of- joint 
Tadcuse's  cry  for  milk  before  (evidently)  'Statia  had  it 
warmed,  a  big  slam  when  Stepan's  tin  plate  went  on  the 
floor,  a  grumble  from  Wajeiceh — that  boy  was  his  father 
over  again — and  finally  a  roar  as  of  an  infuriated  bullock. 
Mrs.  Natupski  sat  up,  her  hair  dangling  in  elf  locks  about 
her  weather-beaten  face.  "  He's  got  it,"  she  told  herself, 
"  He's  found  it."  Shrieks  from  the  children,  and  denials 
in  voices  gruff  and  shrill  from  Wajeiceh  and  'Statia 
brought  her  to  her  feet.  Sounds  of  a  lash  vigorously 
wielded  took  her  downstairs. 


EMANCIPATION  FOR  ONE  141 

"  Stop !  stop !  "  she  cried  in  Polish  to  Kani.  "  They 
don't  know.     I  did  it." 

He  tipped  against  the  wall  and  stared  at  her  with  a  per- 
spiring forehead.  "  You  ?  Lying  abed  there,  what  do 
you  know  ?  The  coffee.  A  devil's  mess.  Only  mine.  A 
white  powder  in  it,  just  like  what  me  put  on  the  potato 
in  the  summer.  Only  me  keep  the  barrel  covered.  Mr. 
Slocumb  tell  it  is  poison,  kill  one  like  it  kill  potato  bug." 

His  wife  nodded.  Then  she  said,  "  Whatever  was  in 
your  coffee,  Kani,  I  gave  it  to  'Statia  for  you." 

"  Why  ?    Why  ?  "  he  was  inarticulate  in  amazement. 

The  woman  grew  voluble,  in  her  own  language.  "  You 
say  I  am  not  American.  'Statia,  there,  who  is  none  of 
mine,  calls  me  greenhorn.  My  boy,  Stanislarni,  is 
ashamed  of  his  mother  when  he  is  with  depot  boys. 
You,  Kani,  tell  me  I  must  defend  myself,  that  'Statia 
is  right,  and  you  cannot  stop  her  calling  me  names.  Very 
well.    I  will  defend  myself.    And  I  will  be  American." 

Taking  a  reef  in  her  petticoat,  which  had  pulled  itself 
awry  in  bed  and  was  slipping  from  her  waist,  she  went 
on,  "  American  woman  buy  pretty  things  for  their 
American  babies.  But  no,  I  cannot  buy  such  things. 
American  women  keep  the  money  they  earn  by  berries 
and  butter.  But  no,  I  am  a  greenhorn.  I  would  lose 
my  money.  American  women  stay  in  bed  ten  days 
when  their  babies  come." 

She  paused,  and  saw  that  Kani  was  listening  intently, 
then  she  ended  in  a  crescendo,  "  Very  well,  I  will  lie  in 
bed  ten  days.  It  is  only  nine  days  till  Monday,  when 
the  harvest  begins.  I  will  not  get  up.  An  American  lady 
only  gets  up  for  a  funeral.  And  for  only  a  funeral  will 
I  get  up !  " 


142  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

Kani  made  one  jump  and  she  was  afraid,  for  a  mo- 
ment, that  her  last  hour  had  come.  However,  he  merely 
grabbed  her  by  shoulders  and  waist  and  hoisted  her  to 
the  floor  above,  there  to  be  deposited  on  the  straw  mat- 
tress. Pushing  the  covers  to  her  chin,  he  emptied  his 
pockets,  making  a  pyramid  of  pennies  and  nickels  on  the 
place  where  the  solar  plexus  is  popularly  supposed  to 
lurk. 

"  Take  rest,  Marinki,"  he  whispered,  "  take  rest.  The 
men  come  tomorrow,  pick  up  apples.  Wheat — me  begin 
wheat  on  Tuesday." 

Mrs.  Natupski,  every  nerve  and  muscle  quivering  for 
exercise,  breathed  elation  as  she  resigned  herself  to  an- 
other twenty-four  hours'  imprisonment.  She  could  hear 
Kani  throwing  out  the  coffee  and  smashing  the  cup. 
He  could  never  know  she  had  won  emancipation  with  two 
spoonfuls  of  powdered  plaster  from  a  rat-hole  near  her 
bed. 


VIII 
A  SNOOT  AT  THE  LAW 

Two  years  had  been  added  to  the  history  of  West 
Holly  since  Kani  Natupski  paid  for  his  farm  and  lost  his 
health,  but  he  had  by  no  means  "  gone  away."  Built  up 
with  chicken  broth  and  cream  from  the  Slocumbs'  store, 
he  was  afterward  able  to  thrive  under  his  own  regimen. 

Behold  him,  blessed  with  excellent  health,  a  growing 
family,  a  clear  farm;  and  absolutely  miserable! 

He  perceived  he  was  not  rich.  Eleven  years  in 
America,  nine  children,  and  not  rich.  In  spite  of  his  one 
hundred  acres  of  well-tilled  land,  his  fat  cows,  his  mon- 
strous pigs,  his  smart  horse,  a  poor  man.  For  he  had 
nothing  beyond  the  farm  and  stock — not  even  money  to 
buy  more,  which  he  coveted.    It  was  hard  to  understand. 

"  Eleven  year  from  Poland,"  he  muttered,  "  and  not 
rich." 

It  upset  all  his  calculations. 

To  be  sure  the  neighbors  all  about  him  were  likewise 
poor,  but  they  were  Americans.  Abner  Slocumb  not 
only  still  owned  to  his  mortgage,  but  seemed  to  think 
he  would  have  it  always.  "  Inherited  the  darned  thing 
from  granddad,"  he  had  been  known  to  remark  in  a 
jocular  moment,  when  the  interest  was  just  paid. 
"  Nance  and  I  couldn't  keep  house  without  it."  Ameri- 
cans understood  nothing  of  the  way  to  live.  They  turned 
up  their  very  remarkable  noses  at  the  broken  bread  which 

143 


144  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

Kani  continued  to  have  shipped  weekly  from  the  city. 
Yet  it  cost  much  less  than  any  other  food,  and  with 
coffee  made  from  the  chicory  one  grew  it  formed  a 
satisfying  meal.  Of  course  the  chickens  didn't  like  it 
very  well,  but  then  it  was  best  to  feed  them  cracked  corn. 
One  had  to  pamper  animals  and  fowls,  else  they  lay  down 
and  died.  Kani  had  learned  this  by  many  bitter  experi- 
ences in  those  now  far-off  days  when  he  was  struggling 
with  quarterly  payments  to  Mrs.  Buckland — when 
Marinki  had  but  lately  come  from  Poland.  Now  he  had 
acquired  wisdom  in  feeding  stock,  though  he  still  ex- 
pected his  family  to  restrain  their  present  appetites  in 
the  interest  of  future  fortunes. 

Long  as  he  had  lived  beside  them  he  had  not  ceased 
to  wonder  over  Americans,  who  were  determined  to  eat, 
whether  or  not  they  prospered.  And  even  more  be- 
wildering was  the  fact  that  these  Americans  not  only  had 
no  children,  but  rejoiced  thereat.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Abner 
Slocumb  in  their  childless  neatness  on  the  one  side  had 
for  several  years  been  balanced  by  the  presence  of  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Hiram  Farrar  in  the  old  Pinkney  place  on  the 
other  side.  The  Farrars  were  pretty  old.  Kani  Natupski 
had  supposed  they  were  grandparents,  and  artlessly  in- 
quired after  the  supposed  grandchildren  one  day  when  he 
and  Hiram  were  mutually  strengthening  a  line  fence. 

"  Ah,"  drawled  Mr.  Farrar,  "  there  you  have  me  where 
the  hair's  short.  Always  wanted  to  be  a  grandpa,  felt  I 
was  cut  out  for  it.  Looked  forward  to  it  for  years. 
Should  have  been  one,  in  fact,  but  for  a  trifling  obstacle. 
Don't  amount  to  much,  but  it's  kept  me  what  I  be,  and 
that  ain't  a  grandpa.  It's  only  this — never  raised  no 
children." 


A  SNOOT  AT  THE  LAW  145 

"  Your  111*  boy  die  ?  "  asked  Natupski.    "  Too  bad !  " 

"  Die?    He  wasn't  never  born  nor  thought  of." 

"  Girl  ?  "  Natupski  was  still  hopeful,  though  not  en- 
thusiastic. 

"  Not  so  much  as  twins.  Guess  it's  just  as  well.  Boys 
generally  fetch  up  in  jail,  and  a  girl  only  stays  around 
till  you  get  attached  to  her  and  then  marries  the  meanest 
scamp  in  town.  Children  are  an  awful  responsibility. 
My  wife  thought  so  too.  And  then,  she  was  a  Pink- 
ney." 

Natupski  understood  some  of  this,  but  remained  un- 
shaken in  his  own  belief  that  babies  were  so  many  aids 
to  the  wealth  that  he  still  wished  might  lie  in  the  future. 

Shortly  afterward  he  received  a  jolt  in  stumbling  over 
Abner  Slocumb's  point  of  viewing  the  same  subject. 

Passing  congratulations  on  the  news  that  Mrs.  Natup- 
ski had  made  her  eighth  exertion  to  add  to  the  number  of 
incipient  farmhands  in  her  husband's  house,  Abner 
Slocumb  followed  the  common  fashion  of  a  dig  in  the 
ribs  and  the  remark,  "  Lucky  dog,  wish  I  was  in  your 
shoes ! " 

It  meant  nothing,  because  Natupski  never  seemed  to 
sense  half  you  said,  for  one  thing,  and  for  the  other  you 
didn't  hanker  to  stand  in  his  leather  at  all,  you  and  your 
wife  being  united  in  the  same  opinion  as  that  of  the 
Farrars,  that  a  snarl  of  young  ones  was  a  useless  ex- 
pense and  a  pesky  nuisance  bound  to  worrit  you  into 
your  grave.  But  Abner  neglected  to  say  this  in  plain 
language,  so  his  sentiments  were  quite  unappreciated  by 
partially  Americanized  Poland. 

Natupski,  after  he  had  gone  away  and  ruminated  a 
while,  came  back  with  the  following  outrageous  proposi- 


146  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

tion:  "You  pretty  good  man.  Me  help  you  out.  Me 
see.  You  all  'lone.  No  children.  No  help.  Me  help. 
Me  go  right  over  your  house.  No  baby.  Next  spring, 
baby.    Me  like  you.    You  pretty  good  man." 

If  any  other  had  made  the  suggestion  Mr.  Slocumb 
would  have  surely  led  him  out  into  the  swale  and  licked 
the  galluses  off  the  wretch,  but  it  didn't  seem  worth 
while  getting  mad  with  the  little  Polack.  Abner  con- 
tented himself  with  doing  as  he  should  have  done  in  the 
first  place,  expressing  his  delight  at  having  no  mouths 
to  feed  but  those  of  "  self  and  wife."  After  that  Natup- 
ski  went  home  miffed;  so,  once  more,  the  two  nations 
rested,  each  determined  t'other  in  the  wrong. 

On  realizing  that  he  was  not  rich,  Kani  naturally 
sought  a  corrective  for  the  situation  among  his  offspring. 
He  was  at  work,  himself,  early  and  late;  and  Marinki, 
with  whom  he  most  gallantly  shared  his  complaint  against 
fate,  was  likewise  never  idle.  What,  he  would  have  her 
tell  him,  could  they  do  that  was  now  undone  ? 

She  it  was  who  set  'Statia  up  with  crocheting.  A 
length  of  dirt-incrusted  edging  was  now  always  dangling 
from  the  girl's  chapped  wrist,  whether  she  fed  the  chick- 
ens, drove  home  the  cows,  or  tended  the  baby,  whose 
name  had  tumbled  from  the  grab-bag  of  fate  in  the 
romantic  form  of  Yadna.  'Statia  also  did  all  the  house- 
work that  was  done,  so  that  mamma  could  continue  sav- 
ing the  wages  of  a  man  in  such  light  forms  of  labor  as 
cultivating,  haymaking,  harvesting. 

Stanislarni  was  still  earning  wages  in  Mifflin,  the 
larger  part  of  which  was  carefully  banked.  The  other 
children  were  kept  loaded  with  duties,  from  the  hour 
when  Kani  kicked  them  out  at  dawn,  until  they  fell  into 


A  SNOOT  AT  THE  LAW  147 

torpor,  which  was  often  shortly  after  they  had  completed 
the  long  walk  from  school. 

Suddenly  Mrs.  Natupski  seemed  to  go  crazy.  She 
laughed,  she  clapped  her  hands,  then  slapped  papa  on 
his  khaki-covered  knee  until  the  dust  rose  in  puffs. 

School — that  was  the  trouble.  Hours  and  hours  every 
day  those  children  had  been  spending  in  that  white- 
painted  building,  wherein  they  learned  strange  and  in- 
convenient things — to  drink  only  from  individual  paper 
cups,  to  wash  with  soap  that  came  out  of  a  nickel  spout. 

The  two  were  interrupted  in  their  cogitations  by  the 
sudden  entrance  of  'Statia,  who  dashed  long-leggedly  up 
the  slope  to  the  barn,  her  fingers  busy  in  her  vermin- 
teased  hair,  arid  her  tongue  wrapped  hastily  about  the 
collection  of  consonants  informing  papa  that  the  cattle 
were  out. 

Out,  when  he  had  put  them  into  the  big  upland  pasture 
that  very  day,  and  nailed  the  barway  with  long  spikes? 
Oh,  the  brutes  had  broken  down  the  fence  in  another 
spot,  had  they  ?  He'd  see  about  that.  Seizing  his  goad, 
and  giving  'Statia  a  tentative  cut  about  the  knees,  which 
of  course  she  deserved  as  the  bearer  of  bad  tidings,  he 
slouched  his  way  into  the  road  and  down  the  grass- 
grown  track. 

"  Come  'long,"  he  bawled  at  'Statia,  who  replied, 
partly,  "  Can't.    It's  schooltime." 

Well,  there  would  be  no  school  for  her,  mamma  broke 
in  eagerly,  nor  yet  for  Wajeiceh,  nor  'Rinka,  Kazia,  or 
Novia.  And  Kani  added,  as  an  improving  clause  to  this 
license,  that  they  might  all  come  and  help  him  build  fence. 

So  Miss  Olive  Greene  was  forced  to  attend  to  her  duties 
in  District  7  with  most  of  her  primary  grades  absent. 


148  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

And  Natupski  got  his  cattle  only  after  he  had  sleuthed 
them  almost  to  Holly  Centre  and  paid  a  certain  sum 
per  head  "  poundage."  A  farmer  there  had,  it  seems, 
found  them  wandering  in  the  highway,  and  shut  them  in 
his  barn.  Kani  was  forced  to  settle  for  their  "  board  and 
keep  "  and  something  over  as  a  fine. 

It  was  a  harrowing  experience  for  a  man  who  had 
just  begun  to  perceive  that  he  was  not  rich.  But  when 
the  last  strip  of  wire  was  fastened  atop  of  the  old  stone- 
wall that  formed  the  basis  of  all  the  fencing  which 
Natupski  had  secured  when  he  bought  the  Buckland 
place,  when  the  unused  part  of  the  coil  was  abandoned 
among  the  hardhack  and  bittersweet  until  it  should  be 
loudly  sought  for  next  time,  when  the  children  were 
sucking  at  lacerated  fingers  and  mamma  was  binding  up 
Wajeiceh's  forehead,  bruised  by  a  flying  hammerhead, 
Kani  had  the  idea. 

He  did  not  tell  his  wife  exactly  what  it  was,  it  not 
being  good  for  a  woman  to  know  too  much  of  a  man's 
plans,  but  he  gave  her  a  grunt  of  praise  for  having  sug- 
gested keeping  the  children  home  from  school,  since 
therein  lay  the  best  of  the  plan.  He  added,  "  Now  we 
going  to  be  rich,"  and  Marinki  believed  him. 

It  being  unlucky  to  "  carry  Jews  "  (nod)  when  one  has 
work  to  do,  Kani  determined  to  begin  laying  the  founda- 
tion for  his  fortune  that  very  night.  It  was  dark  and 
very  muggy;  black  silence  hung  alike  over  the  dwelling 
of  Kani  Natupski  and  his  brood  and  that  of  the  Slocumbs. 
In  that  point  alone  were  the  dwellings  akin. 

Natupski's  was,  of  course,  littered  up  with  children. 
Neighbors  sometimes  wondered  how  they  got  along  with 
so  many  cradles  over  there,  but  these  wonderers  were 


A  SNOOT  AT  THE  LAW  149 

not  the  near  neighbors,  who  knew  the  popular  bed  for  a 
young  Natupski  was  a  soap-box. 

Kani  and  his  wife  never  undressed.  In  the  winter 
one's  clothes  assisted  economy  in  blankets.  In  the  sum- 
mer what  was  the  use  when  one  must  rise  at  dawn  and 
that  came  at  four  o'clock? 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Slocumb,  in  their  matted  chamber,  laid 
their  heads  upon  ruffled  pillows,  and  if  it  turned  cold 
before  morning  would  snuggle  their  bodies  under  a  log 
cabin  quilt  entirely  silk,  satin,  and  velvet. 

Natupski  had  no  real  cause  for  worrying,  beyond  the 
fantastic  desire  for  a  fortune;  Abner  Slocumb  was  being 
considerably  pressed  for  money.  His  complaisant  cred- 
itor had  passed  away,  leaving  his  estate  in  the  hands  of 
trustees.  They  had  turned  the  Slocumb  mortgage  over 
to  a  bank,  and  the  bank,  in  a  heartless  manner,  demanded 
its  interest. 

Nevertheless  the  sound  sleepers  "were  not  on  the  erst- 
while Judson  Buckland  place. 

"  Up,  up,"  whispered  Kani,  in  a  vigorous  hiss,  "  up, 
lazy  loafers ! "  And  he  administered  kicks  with  such 
indiscrimination  that  the  next  to  littlest  baby  got  a  couple, 
and  Stepan  too,  while  the  cat — Natupski's  cat  was  the 
finest  in  the  neighborhood,  no  one  could  tell  why — in- 
dignantly removed  herself  to  Mrs.  Natupski's  side  and 
licked  her  whiskers  in  an  aggrieved  manner. 

"What's  matter,  papa?"  called  'Statia  from  the  next 
bare  floor.     "  Anybody  got  colic  ?  " 

No,  but  somebody  might  have  something  worse  if  he 
or  she  didn't  hurry.  He  wanted  her,  'Statia,  and 
Wajeiceh  and — yes,  'Rinka  might  come.  Only  stop 
scratching  that  match.    He'd  have  no  light. 


150  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

Mrs.  Natupski  raised  herself  on  her  elbow.  She  sup- 
posed he  was  going  out  to  harvest  oats.  But  he  had 
better  take  her  along,  rather  than  the  children. 

To  which  Kani  interposed  a  rough  refusal.  If  she 
came  away  the  baby  would  be  sure  to  cry.  For  his  pur- 
pose the  children  were  well  enough. 

So  he  led  them,  stumbling  and  stuttering  sleep  in  their 
limbs,  through  the  night  to  the  upland  pasture  where 
the  Slocumb  cattle  chewed  their  cuds  and  breathed 
heavily  in  well-fed  content. 

The  next  morning  Abner  Slocumb,  making  a  long  arm 
for  another  doughnut  at  his  breakfast  table,  was  in- 
formed by  a  friendly  passerby  that  his  cattle  must  be  out 
— fences  seemed  to  be  down  all  along  the  mountain  road. 
Abner  did  not  reach  for  his  goad,  nor  lash  Nancy  with 
either  whip  or  hard  words.  He  kept  right  on  forking  the 
nut-cake,  and  only  called  the  cattle  "  pesky  varmints." 

They  were  discovered  quite  safe  in  the  Natupski  barn- 
yard, and  Slocumb  borrowed  fifteen  dollars  from  Blan- 
chard  Bowes  to  redeem  them,  giving  Natupski  hearty 
thanks  in  addition  for  having,  by  presumed  early  rising, 
prevented  the  animals  straying. 

A  few  more  days  and  the  same  tale  disturbed  Blan- 
chard  Bowes  himself,  then  Hiram  Farrar,  then  Mercy 
Bruill,  who  promptly  fell  in  hysterics  and  claimed  widow's 
redemption,  as  in  taxes,  but  all  of  whom  paid,  and  gave 
Natupski  grateful  words  into  the  bargain. 

No  one  thought  it  strange  the  cattle  were  always  found 
in  his  barnyard.  He  was  up  at  all  hours,  the  little  runt, 
while  his  young  ones  forever  scoured  the  hills. 

Kani  believed  he  had  discovered  the  source  of  all 
wealth,  the  golden  fleece,  the  Apples  of  Hesperides,  the 


A  SNOOT  AT  THE  LAW  151 

Midas  touch,  and  the  one  place  in  America  where,  as  had 
been  told  before  he  came  from  Poland,  one  might  find 
nuggets  in  the  streets.  It  was  so  easy.  One  had  only, 
with  the  children's  aid,  to  stampede  the  animals  in  the 
direction  of  the  weak  link  in  the  chain  of  fence — every 
fence  had  one,  or  you  made  it — and  presto !  they  were  in 
the  highway.  Then  to  bed  for  a  few  hours,  to  rise  before 
dawn  and  as  like  as  not  discover  the  beasts  making  havoc 
with  your  corn  or  garden.  After  which  you  collected 
fifteen  dollars — eighteen — even  twenty — and  added  it 
to  the  store.  All  a  by-product,  too,  since  one  worked  just 
as  efficiently  by  day,  only  allowing  the  children  a  long 
noontide  nap  under  the  shade  of  a  haystack. 

It  went  beautifully  only  for  one  impediment — Mrs. 
Natupski!  Think  of  Marinki  talking  almost  as  boldly 
as  that  Nancy  Slocumb,  who  had  never  produced  a  boy, 
talked  to  her  Abner.  Was  there  something  in  this 
American  air? 

For  several  nights  Mrs.  Natupski  listened  sleepily 
while  papa  turned  out  the  older  children,  but  so  weary 
was  the  poor  drudge  that  her  curiosity  did  not  awaken. 
She  only  rejoiced  that  he  didn't  need  her,  and  turned  to 
deeper  rest.  Finding  Nancy  Slocumb  sobbing  under  the 
blueberry  bush  first  stirred  the  little  dark  woman  to 
inquiry.  Shifting  her  own  pail  of  berries  to  better  balance 
the  baby,  she  tapped  Nancy  on  the  shoulder  and  nodded 
questioningly. 

"  Don't  mind  me,"  snapped  Nancy,  who  felt  "  mad- 
der'n  a  wet  hen  "  at  being  caught  making  a  fool  of  her- 
self. "  I  came  out  here  to  have  a  good  bawl  where  Abner 
shouldn't  know  nothing  about  it.  It's  the  interest  money. 
We're  behindhand,  and  banks  ain't  given  to  waiting.  Had 


152  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

it  all  saved  up,  but  the  cattle  have  acted  so  like  all  pos- 
sessed getting  out  and  it's  gone  in  pound  fines." 

Then  she  threw  her  apron  over  her  head  and  added 
inconsequently,  "  No  other  L-kitchen  '11  ever  seem  home 
to  me.  I  know  just  what  sort  of  an  east  wind  '11  make 
the  stove  smoke  every  time." 

People  were  apt  to  think  Mrs.  Natupski  dunderheaded, 
but  she  was  nothing  of  the  sort.  A  very  little  musing 
and  a  few  questions  of  the  children  made  the  matter 
plain  to  the  quiet  little  woman.  Kani  saw  to  it  that  the 
cattle  got  loose,  and  then,  owing  to  some  mysterious 
American  law,  he  was  enabled  to  get  money  for  driving 
them  back  to  their  owners.  Mrs.  Natupski  approved  of 
it  all,  except  as  concerning  the  Slocumbs.  Nancy  had  be- 
come endeared  by  numerous  kindnesses,  sullenly  re- 
ceived. Mrs.  Natupski  determined  the  Slocumb  cattle 
should  henceforth  be  sacred. 

It  was  truth  that  Kani  had  been  a  bit  hard  on  Abner. 
His  pasture  was  most  convenient,  to  be  sure,  and  when 
one  was  very  sleepy  it  was  a  temptation  to  stop  at  the 
first  fence,  instead  of  climbing  higher.  Blanchard  Bowes 
was  a  rich  man,  and  better  able  to  pay;  the  Pinkney- 
Farrar  sisters  had  been  disagreeable  to  the  Natupski 
children,  and  there  might  be  satisfaction  in  turning  their 
creatures  loose,  but  Slocumb  suffered  because  of  pro- 
pinquity. Three  times  he  had  paid  the  scot,  and  once 
more  he  seemed  to  be  marked  as  victim. 

Dreamily  in  the  now  familiar  darkness  Kani  and  his 
children  played  their  parts.  Down  rolled  the  stones  into 
a  soft  bed  of  fern,  the  two  strands  of  wire  being  pulled 
to  the  ground  and  held  by  another  stone.  It  looked  like  a 
place  where  berry-pickers  had  made  their  way.    A  little 


A  SNOOT  AT  THE  LAW  153 

scattered  salt  attracted  the  cattle,  and  with  sleepy 
"  Shoos ! "  the  children  drove  them  to  the  highway  and 
turned  them  in  the  right  direction.  At  least  that  was  the 
attempt,  when  Kani  was  fully  roused  by  the  appearance 
of  a  white-clothed  figure,  while  an  earnest  voice  said, 
"  Nie,  Kani,  nie!" 

It  was  Marinki,  right  in  the  opening,  so  that  the  cattle 
had  already  turned  back. 

"  Mamma ! "  yelled  'Statia,  in  a  voice  to  alarm  the 
township,  but  papa  stilled  her  with  a  kick. 

Mrs.  Natupski,  standing  obstinately  at  the  hole  in  the 
wall,  talked  at  her  husband  in  a  way  no  one  would  have 
believed.  Any  other  cows,  very  well.  But  not  Mr.  Slo- 
cumb's.  Not  his  any  more.  To  which  Kani  made  reply 
— a  grunt.  Then  Marinki  again — oh,  yes;  he,  Kani,  was 
certainly  a  wise  and  a  great  man,  and  his  plan  to  be  rich 
was  very  wonderful;  all  the  more,  then,  let  out  Blanchard 
Bowes'  twenty-nine  head  rather  than  Slocumb's  half 
dozen.  Another  mile  to  go  for  them  ?  What  was  another 
mile  up  the  mountain  to  a  strong  man  ?  Kani's  comment 
on  this  was  expressed  in  a  sibilant  click  of  tongue  on 
teeth,  and  a  threatening  snap  of  his  fingers.  His  wife 
kept  right  on.  She  would  have  him  tell  her  if  it  was  quite 
safe,  all  this?  Was  there  not  a  great  danger  of  being 
found  out  and  somehow  made  to  suffer?  Mr.  Slocumb, 
now,  lived  near,  and  was  always  building  up  his  fence. 
Would  he  not  begin  to  think  it  strange  the  wall  so  often 
fell  down  ?  And  then  might  not  even  Mr.  Slocumb  turn 
to  the  law.     In  Poland,  now 

Kani,  quite  infuriated,  lashed  the  darkness,  but  missed 
the  woman.  She  had  touched  a  little  spot  where  the  germ 
of  fear  had  already  been  established,  not  by  easy-going, 


154  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

trustful  Abner  Slocumb,  but  by  Mr.  Blanchard  Bowes 
himself.  Kani  could  not  surmise  why,  he  blurted  out, 
but  Mr.  Bowes  seemed  to  think  it  very  strange  his  cattle 
were  loose  a  second  time,  and  had  made  sharp  remarks 
about  getting  a  constable  to  search  for  wire-cutters  if 
such  a  thing  occurred  again.  Kani  had  determined  so 
rich  and  fierce-spoken  a  man  could  be  a  source  of  revenue 
no  longer.  But  Abner  Slocumb  had  always  fair  words 
and  a  confiding  manner.  Having  thus  explained  why 
it  must  be  Slocumb  cattle  and  not  those  of  Bowes,  Kani 
hissed  to  keep  his  courage  up,  "  Law !  American  law ! 
Poh !  Poh !  Me  make  a  snoot  at  it !  Me  make  a  snoot 
at  American  law !  " 

Marinki  did  not  move;  the  Slocumb  cows  still  lounged 
along  the  fence.  Then,  "  Out  of  the  way ! "  Kani  sud- 
denly whispered.     "  Me  drive  cows  over  you." 

With  a  slap  on  the  back  a  big  Holstein  was  made  to 
dash  onward,  and  the  baffled  woman,  sobbing  with  anger, 
made  a  hasty  step  and  fell,  tangled  in  the  wire. 

"  Oi !  Oi !  "  she  moaned,  as  the  barbs  tore  her  hair  and 
gashed  her  thinly  clad  body.  Each  time  she  essayed  to 
rise  another  bulky  animal  would  scramble  past  her,  send- 
ing a  shower  of  pebbles  to  sting  her  face,  and  compelling 
her  to  curl  and  shrink  lest  she  should  be  trodden  by  the 
awkward,  cloven  feet. 

The  last,  a  skittish  two-year-old,  did  give  her  an  un- 
toward kick,  then  the  herd  clumped  off  in  the  darkness 
and  she  realized  she  was  quite  alone.  Kani  and  the 
children  never  returned  along  the  road  after  these  noc- 
turnal adventures.  He  drove  the  little  ones  through  a 
path  among  the  sweet  fern  and  sumach  bushes,  and  so 
by  the  rear  into  their  own  domicile.     It  was  important 


A  SNOOT  AT  THE  LAW  155 

that  any  bad  sleeper  who  might  note  cattle  straying  by  the 
road  should  not  see  any  human  beings  near. 

Marinki  had  not  the  slightest  idea  what  hour  it  might 
be,  only  it  was  very,  very  dark.  Well,  there  would  be  no 
hole  in  heaven  if  anything  happened  to  her.  That  was  a 
consoling  thought.  So  closely  was  she  held  by  the  barbs 
and  by  a  large  stone  that  had  pinned  down  her  petticoat 
that  she  could  not  move  without  increasing  the  scratches. 
She  was  not  afraid,  out  there  on  that  lonely  hillside,  but 
she  was  very  tired,  and  the  comparative  softness  of  her 
straw  bed  at  home  would  have  been  grateful.  Anger 
continued  to  keep  her  warm,  and  she  made  up  her  mind, 
heavily  but  decidedly,  that  Kani  must  now  be  made  to 
give  way.  He  had  done  as  he  liked  this  time,  but  there 
would  be  other  times.  Dawn  did  come  presently;  by  its 
first  light  Mrs.  Natupski  picked  herself  up,  extracted  the 
burrs  and  beggar  lice  from  her  garments,  and  made  her 
way  home,  sucking  the  most  accessible  of  her  wounds. 

Mrs.  Natupski  determined  to  remember  the  words, 
"  Constable,"  "  Snoot,"  "  American  law."  Each  morn- 
ing for  a  week  she  repeated  them  like  a  prayer.  Indeed, 
right  after  prayer.  It  was  difficult  to  learn  how  to  write 
them,  but  the  children  assisted,  each  one  a  bit,  so  that  no 
one  might  suspect. 

In  due  time  "  Constable  "  (official  title,  not  name,  as 
Mrs.  Natupski  had  believed)  received  a  rumpled  postal 
card,  which  informed  him  that  Kani  Natupski  "  Snoots 
at  American  law."  The  handwriting  was  undecipher- 
able, being  verily  that  of  the  Natupski  family,  for  Mrs. 
Natupski  managed  her  husband's  name,  'Statia  did  snoots 
in  the  best  perpendicular  of  District  Number  Seven, 
'Rinka  accomplished  American  with  the  aid  of  consider- 


156  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

able  tongue  chewing,  and  law  in  Polish  alone  demanded 
an  interpreter.  The  constable  obtained  one,  in  the  person 
of  a  schoolboy  who  knew  more  English  slang  than  words 
in  his  father's  tongue.  "  Snoots  at  American  law,  eh?  " 
observed  the  constable.  "  I  wonder  who  in  tarnation  is 
so  concerned  to  tattle  on  the  chap  ?  And  one  of  his  own 
jargon  talkers,  too." 

"  I've  heard  pa  say  the  Nick  Kovinskis  got  it  in  for 
the  Natupskis,"  volunteered  the  youthful  interpreter. 

"  Shucks,  you  don't  say  ?  What  seems  to  be  the 
trouble?" 

"  Well,  Mr.  Kovinski  married  a  lady  was  married  to 
Natupski  once." 

"  Reason  enough!  "  shouted  the  constable.  "  Making 
snoots  at  American  law.  Gosh,  that  might  be  most  any- 
thing. What's  my  next  move?  Oh,  call  on  Miss  Olive 
Greene.  These  schoolmarms  know  all  about  their 
scholars'  folks." 

The  constable's  next  move  was  nearly  always  to  call 
on  Miss  Olive  Greene,  but  in  the  midst  of  an  entranc- 
ing evening  he  did  manage  to  introduce  her  Polish 
pupils. 

"  Polish  pupils,"  she  replied.  "  I  haven't  any.  The 
Natupskis  have  not  been  to  school  since  May.  I  sent 
word  to  the  truant  officer,  but  I  suppose  it  will  be  vaca- 
tion before  he  gets  to  this  out-district.  I'm  scared  to 
go  after  them  myself.  The  man  looks  so  fierce,  and 
the  woman  can't  talk  English,  so  I  don't  know  if  she's 
abusing  me  or  not." 

The  constable  rose  in  excitement.  So  that  was  it  ?  A 
snoot  at  law  indeed.  It  should  rise  in  its  majesty — that 
was  him — and  overcome  the  snooters. 


A  SNOOT  AT  THE  LAW  157 

Mrs.  Natupski  had  been  watching  every  day  for  the 
coming  of  strangers.  She  supposed  Kani  would  go  to 
prison,  but  her  own  wrongs,  in  which  Nancy  Slocumb's 
tears  formed  a  coalition  with  festering  scratches,  kept 
her  firm.  Kani  appeared  to  have  forgotten  the  night 
incident,  and  impelled  his  wife  to  work  as  eagerly  as  ever. 
There  had  come  a  lull  in  turning  cattle  out,  but  perhaps 
that  was  because  of  a  moon  in  its  second  quarter. 

At  last  the  strangers  arrived.  Three  men  piled  in  a 
narrow  buggy.  They  stopped  to  ask  a  question  of  Abner 
Slocumb.     Abner  turned  his  thumb  Natupski  way. 

Mrs.  Natupski  kept  right  on  hoeing  beans.  The  chil- 
dren stood  in  a  gaping  row.  One  of  the  men  alighted  and 
handed  a  paper  to  Kani.  It  bore  a  red  seal  and  in  all  eyes 
was  awesome.  Mrs.  Natupski  began  to  tremble.  After 
all,  had  she  done  so  well?  Suppose  Kani  was  put  in 
irons?  What  if  he  should  be  carried  to  some  far-off 
place,  leaving  her  alone  with  the  children  ?  She  did  not 
notice  she  was  hoeing  badly.  A  half-grown  bean  plant 
was  sacrificed. 

One  stinging  box  on  the  ear  brought  her  back.  The 
men  were  cramping  the  buggy  wheel.  Evidently  they  in- 
tended to  go  away.  Perhaps  they  would  come  again  for 
Kani,  or  send. 

"  'Statia,"  he  was  calling. 

Giving  her  the  paper  he  ordered  her  to  read. 

'Statia  wrinkled  her  neatly  penciled  brows,  and 
scratched  her  head — partly  from  doubt.  Then  she  looked 
up  puzzled.    It  was  too  much  for  her  understanding. 

Kani  made  a  quick  trip  to  the  Slocumbs',  Marinki  trail- 
ing after. 

Abner  laid  down  his  pipe  and  took  up  the  paper. 


158  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

"  Oh,  ho,  Natupski,"  he  said,  "  it  seems  you've  been 
breaking  the  law." 

Kani  denied  it,  solemnly. 

"  Oh,  you  have.  It's  all  here  in  black  and  white.  You 
was  a  good  'n'  law-abiding  citizen  up  to  last  May,  and 
then  you  commenced  your  career  of  crime." 

Natupski  leaned  on  the  fence  and  essayed  a  sickly  smile. 

His  wife  ventured  to  draw  near  and  lean  on  the  same 
fence  without  reprimand.  Looking  closely,  she  perceived 
that  her  husband's  knees  trembled. 

"  And  since  then  you  have  infracted — that  is,  bu'sted — 
said  law  no  less  than  eight  times  and  under  six  separate 
and  identical  counts.     It's  all  here !  " 

Natupski,  the  trembling  now  extended  to  his  hands, 
turned  to  his  wife  and  whispered  the  figures.  Rapidly 
she  counted  on  her  fingers.  Slocumbs'  four  times,  and 
the  Bowes's  cattle  twice,  the  Sawyer  girls' — yes,  truly, 
all  came  to  eight.  And  the  six?  Well,  Slocumb  had  six 
cows,  if  that  meant  anything. 

Wonderful,  wonderful  that  what  a  man  did  in  the 
dark  should  come  out  in  a  paper,  quite  correct.  Mrs. 
Natupski  was  lost  in  amazement.  Kani  was  shaking  all 
over,  his  few  teeth  chattering  against  each  other  despite 
the  eighty  degrees  of  heat  quivering  in  the  air. 

Mrs.  Natupski  drew  still  nearer  her  frightened  mate, 
nudged  his  elbow,  and  pointed  to  Mr.  Slocumb.  Kani 
understood. 

Drawing  a  wad  of  bills  from  the  belt  which  never  left 
his  body,  sleeping  or  waking,  Kani  counted  out  forty-five 
dollars. 

"  Others  after  supper,"  he  shook  out  of  himself,  and 
turned  away. 


A  SNOOT  AT  THE  LAW  159 

"  Stop,  stop,  what's  this  for  ?  " 

"  Cow,"  murmured  Natupski. 

"  Aw,  get  out.  You  was  in  your  rights  there.  Keep 
your  cash  and  say  no  more  about  it.  I'm  going  to  let  that 
breachy  two-year-old  go  for  the  interest,  and  without  her 
to  lead  'em  on  I  bet  yer  my  cows  won't  make  any  more 
trouble." 

Mrs.  Natupski,  firm,  and  Mr.  Natupski,  trembling, 
pointed  to  the  paper. 

"  This  ?  Oh,  it  says  if  you  don't  now  and  forth- 
with send  Anystatiz  and  Wajeiceh  and  Marinka  and 
Kazia,  yes,  and  Novia  to  school  in  Deestrict  Seven 
and  keep  'em  there  each  schoolday  until  every  last 
one  of  'em's  turned  of  fourteen,  you'll  be  haled  to  court 
and  made  to  tell  what  for.  God  save  the  Commonwealth 
of  Massachusetts." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Natupski  turned  toward  one  another, 
united  in  horror.  Before  them  stretched  long  years  of 
toil,  unremitting,  lightened  by  the  assistance  of  the  second 
generation  only  at  infrequent  intervals  known  as  vaca- 
tions. 

What  a  country  was  this  America,  famed  for  liberty, 
yet  where  parents  might  not  manage  their  own  children ! 

Abner  chuckled. 

"  Nine  of  'em  now,  ain't  there  ?  Mighty  pooty  little 
family.     Darn  sight  pootier'n  ten." 

Natupski  was  Americanizing  fast.  He  replied  to  Slo- 
cumb's  jest  in  the  very  words  Slocumb  had  once  used. 

"  Luckee  dog.    Me  wish  me  was  in  your  shoe." 

Eleven  years  in  America,  nine  children,  all  but  one  to 
be  kept  in  school  until  14.  Natupski  perceived  he  never 
would  be  rich. 


THE  SECOND  GENERATION 


POTS  AND  KETTLES 

American  language  as  adopted  by  the  Natupski 
family  made  constant  use  of  the  term  "  Where  does  it 
get  you?  "  It  was  no  use  to  wash  your  face.  That  got 
you  nowhere.  Why  exterminate  vermin  ?  That  also  got 
you  nowhere.  By  working  early  and  late,  eating  little 
and  saving  much,  one  (reasoning  from  analogy)  got 
somewhere. 

Stanislarni  Natupski  had  eagerly  consented  to  leave 
school  at  thirteen  and  enter  the  Mifflin  Mills.  No  one  but 
Arthur  Slocumb  had  expected  him  to  do  anything  better. 

He  remained  in  the  mills  until  he  was  (actually)  over 
seventeen.  Being  nerveless  and  teachable  he  had  ad- 
vanced steadily  until  he  finally  held  down  a  well-paid 
job.  Bosses  recognized  that  Natupski  did  not  go  to 
pieces  in  the  last  hour  of  the  working  day,  when  so  many 
did  go  to  pieces  and  forfeit  their  ringers  or  their  back 
hair,  according  to  sex.  Even  the  horrors  of  the  rooms 
where  humidifiers  were  installed  had  no  effect  on  him. 
He  swabbed  perspiration  and  worked  right  on  with  cus- 
tomary stolidity. 

If  Stanislarni  had  stuck  it  out  he  might  have  been  made 
a  "  super."  More  likely  he  would  not  have  been  made 
a  super,  but  would  have  figured  at  seventy-five  in  a  news- 
paper item  as  the  marvelous  old  man  who  had  been  given 

163 


164  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

a  gold-headed  cane  in  recognition  of  his  record — over 
sixty  years  on  one  corporation. 

One  early  summer  morning,  when  four  years  ad- 
vanced toward  this  enticing  goal,  Stanislarni  rose  and 
turned  his  bed  over  to  the  night-shift  man,  who  was  al- 
ready clamoring  for  it.  He  vaulted  the  pile  of  filth  which 
automatically  gathers  at  the  outer  doors  of  factory  tene- 
ments, and  stepped  briskly  toward  the  brick  bevy  over 
the  bridge.  It  was  not  a  day  for  indoors.  Bits  of  fluff 
were  the  only  clouds  in  the  blue,  the  trees  were  greening, 
violets  dotted  the  roadside  grass,  and  a  robin  sang  on  an 
electric  light  pole. 

Stanislarni  heard  a  panting  breath  by  his  side,  and 
looked  down  on  Pania  Wazowski.  Pania  was  not  long 
from  Poland.  She  wore  a  shawl  over  her  head,  and  the 
family  breakfast,  a  loaf  of  bread,  was  hugged  closely 
to  the  bosom  of  her  dirt-stiffened  gown. 

"  'Lo,"  she  said,  shyly.  "  Where  you  going,  Stan 
Natupski  ?  " 

Stanislarni  heard  the  clock  strike  six.  He  had  thought 
it  would  strike  seven.  Then  he  remembered  the  hours 
of  the  night  shift  had  been  changed.  What  should  he 
say  to  Pania?  Where  was  he  going?  For  a  moment  he 
thought  he  would  go  and  pull  that  night-shift  man  out 
of  his  bed — but  no,  let  the  poor  fellow  snooze.  It  would 
be  bad  if  a  fellow  could  not  fill  in  an  hour  on  a  June 
morning.    Still — Stan  Natupski,  where  are  you  going ? 

Paying  no  further  heed  to  the  pattering  Pania — 
Stanislarni  never  did  pay  heed  to  girls — he  turned 
abruptly  from  the  millward  way  and  struck  into  the  road 
leading  to  the  city  of  which  Mifflin  Grove  was  a  some- 
what independent  suburb.    He  had  ridden  over  this  road, 


POTS  AND  KETTLES  165 

after  dark,  in  trolleys,  he  had  never  walked  it  before. 
Soon  the  corporation  tenements  were  past,  he  saw  long 
rows  of  houses,  set  in  yards,  with  gardens  and  shrubs 
for  further  beautifying.  Lace  curtains  waved  in  the 
morning  air,  behind  screen  doors  good-smelling  break- 
fasts were  cooking.  Everybody  was  taking  in  ice,  milk, 
the  morning  newspaper,  an  Angora  cat.  Stanislarni  had 
been  used  to  a  few  such  dwellings  about  the  mills,  but 
they  were  set  apart  for  the  elite — supers  and  such.  Here 
were  hundreds  of  them.  The  side  streets,  as  he  passed, 
were  lined  with  granolithic  sidewalks  and  automobiles. 
It  would  appear,  then,  that  the  ordinary  citizen  had  these 
things — not  the  one  or  two  "  big  "  men  whom  Stanislarni 
had  contentedly  observed  from  an  acknowledged  lowly 
plane. 

Quite  forgetful  that  seven  o'clock  now  impended, 
Stanislarni  decided  to  find  out  who  lived  in  these  fine 
houses.  It  being  his  way  to  proceed  instantly  in  pursuit 
of  any  idea,  he  began  walking  boldly  to  door  after  door. 
If  a  plate  or  card  showed  above  the  electric  bell  he  read 
it.  Otherwise  he  rang  and  bluntly  inquired  who  lived 
there.  No  one  paid  any  attention,  beyond  answering  his 
questions.  He  was  taken  for  a  stupid  boy  looking  for  a 
job. 

At  the  end  of  an  hour  Stanislarni  had  accumulated  a 
mass  of  evidence  that  might  have  been  useful  to  a  politi- 
cal worker.  His  memory — marvelous,  only  no  one  ever 
told  him  so — informed  him  that  besides  Smiths,  Browns, 
and  Birnies,  "  American  names,"  there  were  a  good 
many  McCarthys  and  O'Briens  and  a  vast  number  of 
Goldmans,  Levys,  Cohens,  and  Aronsons.  That  is,  it  was 
not  impossible  for  foreign-borns  to  support  mansions  and 


1 66  OURL  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

send  their  offspring  to  school  with  big  hairbows  and 
white  socks. 

Yet  not  one  Polish  name! 

Stanislarni  had  hitherto  honored  his  father  for  work- 
ing hard  and  living  poor,  now  he  doubted.  It  really 
seemed  that  the  way  his  country  people  lived  was  wrong. 
It  got  them  nowhere. 

The  time  had  crept  on  to  nine.  The  boss  had  by  this 
time  cursed  Stanislarni  well  and  thoroughly,  and  put 
his  machines  in  charge  of  another.  Stanislarni  didn't 
care.  He  was  thinking  that  all  the  folks  in  the  office,  the 
writing  girls  in  white  waists,  the  bookkeepers,  the 
draftsmen,  did  not  get  on  the  job  until  this  prepos- 
terous hour.  When  he  and  thousands  others  had  forgot- 
ten breakfast  and  almost  sniffed  dinner,  these  strolled  in 
picking  their  teeth.  It  wasn't  fair,  it  wasn't.  Stanislarni 
had  been  so  busy  earning  wages  and  getting  promoted 
that  he  hadn't  thought  much  about  it;  now  he  decided 
it  wasn't  fair.  He  felt  the  unfairness  so  strongly  that  he 
brought  his  big  fist  down  slam!  while  telling  himself  it 
wasn't  fair. 

"  Ouch ! "  grunted  the  object  banged,  that  turned  out 
to  be  the  back  of  a  fat  neck.  It  appertained  to  a  man 
who  had  been  leaning  over  a  gate  in  an  endeavor  to  see 
up  the  street  and  ascertain  that  Mary  and  Katy  got  safely 
to  the  other  side. 

"  Excuse — excuse,  please,"  gasped  the  Polish  boy,  and 
the  stout  gentleman  kindly  did  so,  even  while  shaking 
pieces  of  collar  button  into  places  where  they  would  be 
least  annoying. 

At  intervals  he  looked  Stanislarni  over.  Then  he  said, 
"  I've  seen  you  before.    Half  an  hour  ago  I  was  to  the 


POTS  AND  KETTLES  167 

grocer's  and  you  went  up  all  the  doorsteps  on  Banks 
Street.    What  place  was  you  looking  for?" 

"  No  place,"  said  Stanislarni.  "  I  just  wanted  to  know 
how  many  houses  was  lived  in  by  fellers  from  the  old 
country." 

"  How  you  find  that  out?  " 

Stanislarni  briefly  explained.  The  other's  eyes  bright- 
ened at  this  intellectual  turn  to  the  affair,  while  apologies 
were  offered  for  unconsidered  belittlement. 

I  supposed  you  was  looking  for  a  job.  And  it  was 
statistics.  Say,  I'm  some  bear  on  statistics  myself. 
Won't  you  come  in?  " 

Thus  was  Stanislarni  introduced  to  the  interior  of  one 
of  the  gorgeous  mansions.  This  was  a  very  gorgeous 
one.  It  had  a  porte-cochere,  though  lack  of  any  wide 
gate  implied  dearth  of  carriage  company.  There  was 
also  a  sleeping  porch,  occupied  by  the  Boston  terrier. 
The  stout  man  took  his  guest  to  a  den  by  way  of  a  long 
meander  through  a  green  velvet  parlor,  a  white  enamel 
dining-room,  and  a  living-room  so  mission  that  Stanis- 
larni took  it  for  a  Baltimore  lunch.  He  had  seen  a  Balti- 
more lunch  when  he  went  to  the  city  Saturday  nights  for 
a  hell  of  a  time.  The  den  was  upholstered  in  puffs  and 
brave  with  the  steins  and  posters  whereby  one  knew  it 
for  a  den.  Stanislarni's  first  performance — even  before 
he  let  himself  be  awed  by  the  finery — was  to  work  out 
the  geography  of  the  house  and  prove  that  the  den  opened 
directly  from  the  hall.  His  host  had  taken  him  through 
the  other  rooms  to  show  they  existed.  Stanislarni  liked 
that.    It  was  what  he  would  have  done  himself. 

"  I  guess  he  should  be  a  Jew,"  Stanislarni  told  Stanis- 
larni, while  accepting  one  of  the  cigarettes  that  were 


168  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

shoved  his  way.  He  was  then  asked,  "  Why  you  get 
statistics?    Working  on  some  newspaper?" 

"  No.  I  don't  work  no  place  today.  I  wanted  to  find 
out  how  such  nice  houses  was  had.  I  wanted  to  know  if 
all  the  fellers  had  'em  was  American-born." 

"  You  American-born  ?  " 

"  No.  I  was  four  when  mamma  came  from  Poland. 
My  brother  was  born  on  ship." 

"So?  Polish?"  He  was  so  very  mildly  interested 
that  Stanislarni  at  once  reconstructed  his  ideas  and  told 
himself,  "  Russian  he  is,  I  bet  me  a  cent." 

The  fat  man  now  leaned  back  in  a  massive  arm-chair 
and  assumed  the  air  of  a  magistrate  examining  witnesses 
in  an  intricate  civil  case. 

"  So,  my  young  friend,  you  admire  this  beautiful  sub- 
urb ?  And  maybe  you  think  sometime  you'd  like  to  come 
here  to  live  yourself?  Well,  it  ain't  easy.  For  one  not 
American-born — oh,  it  ain't  easy.  And  more  specially 
for  Polanders  it  ain't  easy." 

Stanislarni  dovetailed  this  expert  opinion  to  the  lesson 
of  doorplates  and  felt  condemned.  His  entertainer  went 
on,  "  To  be  sure,  some  us  folks  in  this  neighbor- 
hood ain't  always  had  it  so  nice.  We're  what  they 
call  self-made.  Now  me,  myself — say,  how  old  be 
you?" 

°  Seventeen,"  replied  Stanislarni,  for  once  determined 
to  indulge  himself  in  the  luxury  of  the  truth. 

"  Oh ! "  The  other  pulled  out  a  watch  and  stared  it 
in  the  face. 

Stanislarni  could  take  a  hint,  even  though  appearing 
stodgy.  In  fact  he  generally  took  hints  most  quickly 
when  most  stodgy. 


POTS  AND  KETTLES  169 

"  Seventeen  years  from  Poland,"  he  said,  helping  him- 
self to  a  second  smoke. 

"Oh — that's  it.  And  you  were  four  then?  Voted 
yet?" 

"  No." 

"  Father  took  out  his  papers  ?  Is  it  this  ward  he  lives 
in?" 

"  He  lives  to  West  Holly,"  said  Stanislarni,  shortly. 
"  I  wasn't  talking  about  him." 

The  gentleman  rose,  tiptoed  to  a  letter-press,  opened  a 
slide,  and  disclosed  beer  bottles  cuddling  round  an  ice 
cake. 

"  It's  early,"  he  said,  *  but— prosit !  " 

"  He's  a  dam'  Dutchman,"  thought  Stanislarni,  while 
getting  tangled  in  a  stein  lid  and  defying  any  onlooker 
to  grin. 

"  At  your  age — it  is  to  laugh — I  was  peddling  garden 
truck.  Before  that  I  sold  papers.  I  have  even  shined 
shoes." 

It  is  impossible  for  mere  words  to  show  how  proud 
he  was  of  all  this.  That  he  actually  swelled  with  pride 
is  proven  by  his  suddenly  unbuttoning  his  waistcoat, 
though  Stanislarni  thought  a  silk  shirt  had  something 
to  do  with  it.  He  went  on,  "Of  course  that  wasn't  so 
much.  Any  fool  can  push  a  pushcart.  The  thing  is  to 
know  when  to  get  out.  Like  in  the  stock  market.  I 
always  knew  when  to  get  out.  I  knew  it  when  I  wove 
jute  at  so  much  the  cut  or  when  I  did  janitor's  work 
with  a  third-class  license.  After  a  while  I  got  out  of 
business  and  took  up  politics.  Ran  last  year  for  common 
council.     Excuse  me — there's  the  'phone." 

He  closed  the  Circassian  walnut  door,  leaving  Stanis- 


170  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

larni  a  few  moments  with  the  glory  that  was  from  boot- 
blacking,  the  grandeur  founded  in  truck-peddling.  Stanis- 
larni  meditatively  counted  the  cigarettes  and  put  a  few 
in  his  pocket. 

"  Stucked  on  yourself,  you  is,"  he  remarked  to  an  en- 
larged crayon  portrait  of  his  host,  "  just  like  a  darn 
Swede." 

The  citizen  of  the  world  came  back,  almost  breathless. 

"  Call  from  the  mayor,"  he  said,  with  a  hard  look  that 
defied  a  listener  to  think  otherwise.  "  Him  and  me  is 
rather  pals.  You  see,  our  grandfathers  " — he  paused 
for  effect — "  came  to  this  country  the  same  time." 

Stanislarni  understood.  His  spirits,  that  had  quick- 
ened when  he  heard  of  boot-blacking  and  coal-shoveling, 
tumbled  below  their  usual  level.  All  guesses  as  to  nation- 
ality had  been  wrong.  This  was  a  real  American  (with 
an  Irish  name,  Stanislarni  knew  enough  of  politics  to  be 
sure  he  had  an  Irish  name)  with  a  mayor  for  a  friend. 

"  I  got  to  be  at  the  C.  H.  in  half  an  hour,"  the  other 
went  on.    "  Want  to  ride  to  the  city  in  my  car?  " 

"  No,"  said  Stanislarni,  with  a  smile  that  expressed 
that  pathetic  Polish  proverb,  "  Always  you  can  hear  the 
tears  in  their  laughter."  All  this  had  got  him  nowhere. 
He  thought  he  would  go  back  and  be  humble  to  the  boss. 
"  Thank  you,  mister,  for  the  pleasant  hour,"  he  went  on. 
"  I  just  remembered  it's  most  ten,  and  my  job  she  starts 
at  seven.    Goo'by." 

"  Here,  don't  go  off  mad.  I'd  like  to  help  you,  honest 
I  would.  I  always  like  to  help  young  fellers  with  ambi- 
tion. But  we  can't  all  be  at  the  top,  you  know.  One 
thing,  I  have  education.  I  wasn't  anywhere  and  wouldn't 
have  got  anywhere,  only  I  got  educated.     That's  what 


POTS  AND  KETTLES  171 

this  country  requires — education.  Lookit  President 
Wilson — Taft — Roosevelt — where  they  been  without 
education  ?  Or  the  mayor  o'  Boston  ?  He's  even  been  in 
jail.  Now  most  fellers  been  in  jail  would  know  they 
couldn't  be  mayor  and  let  it  go  at  that.  He  didn't.  Hired 
a  man  to  go  round  with  him  to  caucuses  and  such  and 
ask  every  time  '  How  about  that  jail  sentence  ? '  Give 
Mr.  Candidate  a  swell  chance  to  answer  back,  '  I  done 
it  for  a  friend.'  And  what  he  done  was  take  an  examina- 
tion, so  you  may  say  it's  education  put  him  in  the 
mayor's  chair.  Now  I  take  it  you  ain't  much  educa- 
tion?" 

Stanislarni  shook  his  head  gloomily,  fearing  to  even 
mention  District  Seven  of  West  Holly. 

"  And  Polish-born  besides.  My  boy,  if  you  got  a  decent 
job,  believe  me,  you  better  stick  to  it.    Why,  it  was  some 

horrible  effort  I  made  before  I  got  that "  he  pointed 

triumphantly  to  a  beribboned  sheepskin  that  hung  over 
the  humidor.  "  One  time  I  had  all  the  Y.M.C.A.  betting 
I  wouldn't  make  it." 

Stanislarni  went  out  properly  subdued  and  his  enter- 
tainer saw  him  go,  and  then  called  up  a  grin.  He  always 
held  out  helping  hands  to  young  men  with  votes — present 
or  potential — but  he  didn't  encourage  them  in  aspira- 
tions to  his  own  eminence.  He  was  tickled  at  sending 
that  youth  forth  satisfactorily  burning  with  envy  and 
hopelessness. 

All  went  well  until  the  depressed  Stanislarni  turned  to 
make  sure  the  door  was  fast  closed.  He  saw  a  silver 
plate  polished  to  the  last  degree. 

Taddeons  Wajakalowski 


172  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

"  By  God !  "  Stanislarni  informed  the  surrounding  at- 
mosphere.   "  He  is  a  dam'  Polisher  all  the  time !  " 

He  rang  the  bell  with  assurance,  walked  over  the 
answering  maid,  and  slapped  into  the  den,  where  Mr. 
Wajakalowski  was  trying  to  decide  which  of  two  motor- 
ing caps  was  the  most  knowing. 

"  Hullo,  Mr.  Wajakalowski,"  said  Stanislarni,  ripping 
the  top  off  a  beer  bottle  and  letting  the  contents  gurgle 
into  his  stein.  "  You  see,  I  corned  back.  I  didn't  know 
when  your  grandpa  and  the  mayor's  got  to  this  country 
same  time  it  was  in  different  ships.  Now  I  want  you 
please  to  tell  me  all  you  did,  beginning  with  next  first 
from  the  jute  mill.    So  far,  you  see,  I  already  got." 

Mr.  Wajakalowski  made  a  gesture  of  despair. 

"  Would  you  go  to  college  ?  Why,  you  don't  know  the 
beginning  of  the  entrance  requirements." 

"  Yah,"  said  Stanislarni,  rudely  swilling  beer.  "  You 
shall  tell  me.  That  Y.M.C.A.  did  you  say  helped  you 
to  know  how?  Then  it  shall  help  me.  And  anyhow, 
mister,  I  thinks  I  ain't  so  foolish.  I  thinks  even  now  I 
talk  better  as  you.  '  I  done  it  for  a  friend.'  Mayors 
never  says  so.    What  else  you  do  besides  Y.M.C.A.  ?  " 

Mr.  Wajakalowski  cowered  behind  his  mahogany  flat 
desk.  At  length  he  ventured  to  say,  humbly,  "  I  got 
married.  It's  a  good  thing  to  be  married  young.  Keeps 
a  feller  from  going  out  evenings  spending  money." 

Stanislarni  slammed  down  the  stein  and  made  a  second 
exit,  which  he  diversified  by  yanking  aside  a  portiere 
and  gaping  into  the  living-room,  where  a  little  girl  was 
playing  the  piano  with  marvelous  skill  (and  her  feet). 

"  Too  much  blue  eyes,"  said  Stanislarni,  and  banged 
his  way  into  the  street.    It  was  half  an  hour  before  Mr. 


POTS  AND  KETTLES  173 

Wajakalowski  understood  that  his  youngest  daughter 
had  been  considered  as  a  possible  wife  and  summarily 
rejected. 

By  then  Stanislarni  was  out  in  Holly.  Soon  after  he 
started  on  a  five-mile  tramp  to  his  father's  farm. 

Kani  Natupski  was  found,  as  generally,  adoring  his 
swine.  By  constant  and  pertinacious  attention  he  had 
reared  a  monumental  sow  and  in  her  whereabouts  he 
always  was  when  not  asleep  or  slave-driving  the  family. 
He  stopped  smiling  at  the  pig  and  frowned  at  his  big  son. 

"  What's  doing?  "  he  asked.     "  You  on  strike?  " 

"  I've  quit,"  said  Stanislarni. 

"  Good  nuf,"  returned  the  father,  who  always  pre- 
ferred his  children  should  work  directly  under  his  eye  and 
lash.    "  Start  cutting  hay  next  week.    Good  nuf." 

Stanislarni  went  directly  to  the  point. 

"  Where's  my  money-book  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  she  safe.    In  pocket  belt  like  mine." 

"  Le's  see  it." 

11  Me  too  busy,"  grumbled  the  father,  and  scratched  the 
pig.  A  pause  ensued.  Then,  "  I  want  to  see  my  money- 
book,"  said  Stanislarni,  as  if  the  matter  hadn't  been 
mentioned  before. 

His  father  walked  away.  Stanislarni  patiently  fol- 
lowed. Kani  led  his  son  all  over  the  farm  and  into  the 
barn,  Stanislarni  calmly  sauntering  after  and  at  inter- 
vals giving  reminder  that  he  was  waiting  around  to  see 
the  money  (i.e.,  bank)-book.  He  had  been  through  this 
part  of  it  before.  The  real  fight  would  come  if  he  de- 
clined to  return  the  book.  Kani  finally  drifted  back  to 
the  pig-pen,  there  being  nowhere  else  to  go,  and  reluc- 
tantly drew  out  the  book. 


174  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

"  All  ri',"  said  Stanislarni,  and  quickly  hid  the  precious 
possession  inside  his  clothes.  Then  Kani  forgot  the  pig 
for  an  instant,  and  cursed  inadequately  in  English,  more 
satisfactorily  in  his  native  tongue. 

"  Spender,"  he  bawled,  "  anyhow  the  moneys  you  can't 
get.    The  bank  man  he  will  not  give  it." 

Stanislarni  stopped  so  suddenly  one  foot  remained  in 
the  air. 

"  Dam',"  he  muttered  to  himself.  He  knew  what  his 
father  said  was  true.  Kani  had  gone  with  him  when  he 
made  his  first  deposit,  after  working  a  month  in  the 
mill.  The  bank  people  had  carefully  explained  to  the 
man  and  boy  such  terms  as  "  under  age  "  and  "  guardian." 
Everything  began  to  look  black  once  more,  just  as  when 
he  made  his  first  exit  from  the  Wajakalowski  mansion. 
Kani  was  tuggingly  vigorously  at  his  son,  endeavoring 
to  extract  the  book  as  one  pried  potatoes  from  rocky  soil. 
Then  a  bright  light  illumined  Stanislarni's  vision  and  he 
gave  his  father  a  push  and  surged  onward.  As  he  went 
he  shouted,  "  The  cash-money's  all  mine.  The  man 
said  it  was  when  I  was  twenty-one." 

"  Fool !  "  bawled  the  father.    "  You  be  seventeen." 

And  Stanislarni  holloaed  back,  "  Nix.  I'm  twenty-one. 
A  paper  to  the  Mifflin  Manufacturing  Associates'  office 
says  so." 

Kani  stood  bewildered,  making  rapid  calculations  on 
his  fingers.  He  had,  to  be  sure,  sworn  before  somebody 
that  his  oldest  son  was  seventeen  four  years  before,  but 
— but — how  could  that  have  been  when  Stanislarni  was 
his  oldest  child  and  Marinki  and  he  married  at  sixteen 
and  nineteen?  Kani  almost  determined  to  monkey  no 
more  with  American  laws. 


POTS  AND  KETTLES  175 

Stanislarni,  assured  as  to  his  career  on  the  financial 
side,  next  attacked  the  Y.M.C.A.  He  found  Mr.  Steel 
of  that  organization  on  guard. 

"  I've  come "  said  the  boy. 

Mr.  Steel  saw  the  rough  clothes  and  unpolished  boots, 
and  said  "  Employment  Bureau  next  door." 

"  Tanks.    I've  come " 

"  Gymnasium  registration  this  evening." 

"Is  it?     I've  come " 

"  Excuse  me,  I'm  very  busy.  Can  you  call  some 
other " 

"  No,"  growled  Stanislarni.  "  I've  come  today  and  I 
can't  come  no  more.     I'm  going  on  from  here." 

Mr.  Steel  did  then  stop  his  important  work — he  was 
plotting  a  circular  to  interest  exactly  such  boys  as  Stanis- 
larni in  the  work  of  the  association — and  looked  up. 

"  Oh — what  d'ye  want?  "  he  asked,  fatuously. 

"  What  college  does  presidents  go  to  ?  " 

"  I — I  don't  quite  understand." 

"  A  feller — a  man  he  told  me  all  presidents  went  to 
college.     Which  one?" 

"  Why — er,  Mr.  Taft  went  to  Yale.  And  Roosevelt, 
Harvard " 

"  That's  the  one,"  exploded  Stanislarni,  bringing  down 
his  fist  till  the  ink  bottles  jumped.  "  I  go  to  Harvard. 
Tell  me  how." 

Mr.  Steel  was  interested  at  once.  He  called  to  other 
departments  and  when  he  got  the  men  in  he  showed  them 
the  boy  who  wanted  to  go  to  Harvard.  Some  of  them 
were  men  who  had  been,  and  they  thought  it  specially 
funny.  Only  one  youth,  an  extra  gym  instructor  who 
was  trying  to  worm  his  way  into  an  institution  of  higher 


176  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

culture — any  institution  of  higher  culture  that  would  let 
him  work  as  he  studied — did  sit  down  and  talk. 

"  At  school  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Not  now.     Vacation,"  said  Stanislarni,  calmly. 

"  Oh — h !  Well,  I  suppose  you  know  it's  darn  hard 
to  pass  the  entrance  exams." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Stanislarni.  "  I  buy  books  and 
pretty  soon  I  know  it  all." 

"  Gosh,  'tain't  simple  as  that.  If  you  weren't  to  a 
prep  school  you  got  to  have  tutors  and  all  sorts  of  fancy 
training.  Then  there's  the  kale.  That's  what  stumps 
me.  I'm  so  long  earning  fifty  dollars  ahead  that  I  spend 
a  hundred  while  I'm  at  it." 

"  Oh — money,"  said  Stanislarni,  with  a  sweep  of  the 
hand.  "  She  don't  hurt  me  none.  How  much  it  cost — 
this  college  ?  " 

"  One  can  scrape  through  on  five  hundred  a  year. 
Less  if  he  tends  a  furnace.  But  where's  the  five  hun- 
dred?" 

"  How  much  you  take,"  asked  Stanislarni,  "  to  show 
me  those  books  ?  " 

Cupidity  gleamed  in  the  poor  rat's  eye;  he  named  a 
dollar  an  hour,  expecting  to  be  beaten  down. 

"  Come,  begin,"  said  Stanislarni,  "  I  got  no  time  for 
fooling." 

And  tendered  the  dollar  forthwith. 

The  lad  felt  he  was  robbing  the  poor  fathead,  but  be- 
cause he  saw  a  good  supper  in  that  dollar  he  accepted  it. 
Mr.  Steel  grinned  when  he  saw  the  two  walking  off,  and 
made  a  crack  anent  the  blind  leading  the  blind. 

For  three  weeks  the  rat — his  name  was  Ralph  Brown- 
ing— 'phoned  excuses  and  did  not  come  to  work.    Then 


POTS  AND  KETTLES  177 

he  sent  word  that  he  gave  up  the  position,  "  having  se- 
cured a  steady  one,  more  lucrative." 

He  had  indeed,  its  name  being  Stanislarni  Natupski. 
His  teachers  in  District  Seven  would  not  have  remem- 
bered the  boy  as  an  especial  glutton  for  learning,  but  that 
was  probably  because  books  then  seemed  to  get  you  no- 
where. Ralph  Browning's  nose  was  now  seldom  far 
from  the  grindstone,  and  it  was  not  until  spring  that  he 
reappeared  at  the  Y.M.C.A.,  hollow-eyed,  but  alert.  No 
circular  being  imminent  at  that  season,  Mr.  Steel  was 
talkative. 

"  Haven't  seen  you  since  you  walked  off  with  the  im- 
migrant boy.  By  the  way,  Mr.  Blanchard  of  the  night 
school  tells  me  you've  sent  for  the  past  performance 
exam,  queries." 

"  Yes,"  said  Browning,  "  and  I  wish  you'd  ask  him  to 
look  over  these  answers." 

"  Ask  him  yourself.     Here  he  comes." 

Browning  whistled  under  his  breath  out  of  the  window 
while  Mr.  Blanchard  bent  a  quizzical  brow  over  the 
papers.    Soon  he  said,  "  This  isn't  your  hand  ?  " 

"  No.    It's  another  fellow  who's  making  this  try." 

After  a  while  Mr.  Blanchard  straightened,  and  spun 
his  glasses  on  their  cord. 

"  It's  a  good  test,"  he  said,  "  but  a  queer  one.  Many 
quite  easy  questions  aren't  answered  at  all,  while  some 
difficult  ones  are  taken  flying.  The  odd  part  of  it  is  that 
there's  absolutely  no  incorrect  answer.  What  the  man 
knows  he  is  sure  of — unless  he  worked  unfairly.  This 
isn't  a  hoax,  Browning?  " 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Browning.  "  It's — say,  Mr.  Steel, 
you  remember  the   Polish  boy?     Well,  these  are  his 


178  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

papers,  and  that's  what  he's  learned  since  last  summer, 
with  my  assistance.  And  I  don't  know  if  he's  a  real  man 
or  some  automatic  thing  an  Edison  guy  made  out  of  the 
memory  the  rest  of  us  have  missed.  I  read  him  a  thing 
and  it  seems  to  be  his  for  keeps.  That's  how  his  answers 
are  so  straight,  when  he  makes  'em  at  all." 

"  Not  like  the  most  of  you,  who  know  so  many  things 
that  aren't  so,"  snapped  Mr.  Blanchard. 

"  But  the  thing  is — does  he  know  enough  to  get  into 
Harvard?" 

"  He  can  be  stuffed,"  said  Mr.  Blanchard.  "  The  ex- 
aminations aren't  until  May.  And  then  there's  the  sum- 
mer to  work  off  conditions.  A  marvelous  memory! 
But  I  suppose  he  has  no  reasoning  power  and  no 
money?  " 

"  Can't  say  as  to  the  first,"  laughed  Browning,  "  but  I 
think  he's  not  poor.  Every  time  I  suggest  an  hour  off  he 
shells  out  a  dollar.  But  I'm  glad  you'll  take  him  over. 
He's  given  me  the  willies." 

It  was  characteristic  of  Stanislarni  that  except  for  an 
occasional  picture  postal  he  held  no  communication  with 
his  home  in  West  Holly.  Neither  did  he  buy  new  clothes, 
attend  moving-picture  shows,  or  always  take  off  his  boots 
when  he  went  to  bed.  His  mind  was  concentrated  wholly 
on  the  business  in  hand.  By  and  by,  when  going  to  col- 
lege did  for  him  what  it  had  apparently  done  for  Mr. 
Wajakalowski,  he  intended  to  have  all  his  little  sisters  live 
in  his  fine  house  and  play  pianos  with  their  feet. 

And  so  it  came  to  the  important  week  in  May  and 
Stanislarni  Natupski  sat  in  a  room  at  Harvard  and  wrote 
answers  to  queries  with  such  rapidity  that  he  had  plenty 
of  leisure  to  gape  about  and  wonder  why  the  men  in 


POTS  AND  KETTLES  179 

charge  gave  him  such  sour  looks  if  they  happened  to  pass 
in  patrol. 

Stanislarni  was  truly  a  marked  figure,  with  his  huge 
bullet  head;  besides  he  seemed  idle  so  much  of  the  time 
that  the  examiners  could  but  suspect  he  had  introduced 
some  new  and  devilish  method  of  dishonesty. 

Stanislarni,  cursed  with  neither  imagination  nor  con- 
science, sat  serene  and  unworried.  He  thought  he  saw 
straight  before  him  three  years  of  scenes  such  as  this 
many  times  repeated,  and  if  his  clothes  wore  out  in  the 
meantime  he  supposed  he  could  buy  a  strong  suit  for 
five  dollars  in  Boston  just  as  he  had  done  at  Cohen's 
We  Clothe  the  World  in  Mifflin  Grove.  The  fact  that 
he  had  two  thousand  dollars  ahead  by  no  means  incited 
him  to  any  extravagance. 

While  Stanislarni  tried  to  fill  in  half  an  hour  with  en- 
tertainment of  a  roving  eye  he  saw  that  the  young  gentle- 
man next  him — who  was  yet  far  enough  away  to  make 
"  communication  "  difficult,  if  not  dangerous — was  deeply 
and  frequently  interested  in  his  shirt  cuff.  No  one  hav- 
ing put  the  Polish  boy  wise  as  to  these  aids  in  available 
information,  Stanislarni  stared  in  such  undisguised 
wonder  that  the  youth  blushed,  wriggled  in  his  chair,  and 
exhibited  an  illness  at  ease  which  Stanislarni  understood 
not  in  the  least,  and  so  could  not  know  that  his 
inconvenient  espionage,  added  to  that  of  the  regular 
literary  police,  was  driving  a  fellow-student  nearly 
frantic. 

That  afternoon  a  thunderstorm  came  up  with  peculiar 
swiftness  and  in  the  darkest  moment,  while  an  obstinate 
electric  switch  was  being  negotiated  at  the  farthest  end 
of  the  room,  Stanislarni  saw  the  other  student  slip  a  tiny 


180  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

book  under  the  table  edge.  In  an  instant  Stanislarni  had 
darted  from  his  seat  and  placed  a  grip  of  iron  on  the 
volume,  while  in  a  whisper  he  hissed,  "  Fool !  " 

The  lights  came  up,  the  book  disappeared,  and  Stanis- 
larni Natupski  was  caught  standing.  An  anxious  mo- 
ment ensued,  then  allowance  was  made  for  lightning  act- 
ing on  youthful  nerves,  and  the  boy  was  told,  "  Take 
your  seat,  sir." 

At  the  day's  end  the  other  youth  waited  for  Stanis- 
larni to  lope  out  into  the  lilac-scented  air. 

"  I  say,"  he  said,  "  you're  a  good  sort,  keeping  a  still 
tongue  that  way.  I  really  thought  you  were  going  to 
bawl  me  out." 

"  Here's  your  book,"  said  Stanislarni.  As  he  held  it 
out  hidden  by  his  huge  hand  the  cover  flew  back  and  an 
otherwise  blank  page  showed  the  volume  belonged  to 
Arthur  Slocumb. 

"  I  guess  you  know  me,"  said  Stanislarni.  "  Me  and 
you  had  a  club  once  at  West  Holly.  You  gave  my  sister 
teeth-brushes." 

"  Sure,"  cried  Arthur.  "  You're  Stanislarni  Natupski. 
And  you're  going  to  college !  " 

Both  boys  grinned  and  began  to  walk  away  very  fast 
to  wherever  they  were  going.  Where  that  was  neither 
had  any  idea.  In  a  moment  Arthur  resumed  talking. 
"  Say,  this  is  great  stuff.  Just  to  think  that  the  little 
club  I  cooked  up  that  summer  I  was  so  bored  at  the  farm 
should  result  in  your  being  at  Harvard  with  me!" 
Stanislarni  nodded  and  forbore  to  mention  what  had 
really  incited  him  to  such  intellectual  effort.  Arthur 
prattled  on,  "  Now  I  can  put  you  wise  to  a  whole  lot  of 
things." 


POTS  AND  KETTLES  181 

"  Yes,"  said  Stanislarni.  "  I  don't  know  much — just 
what  a  Y.M.C.A.  feller  showed  me." 

Arthur  stopped  and  took  a  general  survey  of  his  com- 
panion. 

"Shoes — rotten!  Socks— degenerate !  Trousers — 
impossible!  Shirt — a  nightmare!  Tie — a  blizzard! 
What  a  pity  you're  St.  Bernard  size  while  I'm  in  the 
Collie  class." 

"What's  matter?"  asked  Stanislarni.  "I  got  this 
necktie  off  a  feller  in  the  mill  two  years  ago,  but  if  you 
want  I  should  buy  another  I  can  do  it.  I  got  two 
thousand  dollars  in  my  kick." 

Arthur  turned  faint,  dropped  his  chin,  and  forgot  to 
pick  it  up.  Stanislarni  went  on,  "  And  maybe  I  can  put 
you  wise  to  somepin,  too.  So  don't  take  no  more  books  to 
the  examinations.  I  tells  you  the  right  numbers — so — 
with  my  fingers  under  the  table  when  the  man  he  ain't 
looking." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,"  said  Arthur,  meekly.  "  I  thought 
when  you  called  me  fool  just  now  it  meant  you  had  Sun- 
day-school ideas  from  the  Y.M.C.A." 

"  I  said  fool  and  fool  you  was,"  sneered  Stanislarni, 
"  because  the  right  answer  ain't  in  this  book  at  all.  It's  in 
t'other  volume,  page  88." 

The  boys  passed,  with  slight  conditions  which  both 
felt  sure  would  be  safely  worked  off.  Arthur  soon 
brought  Stanislarni  to  recognition  of  ,the  nail-buffer 
and  its  uses;  Stanislarni  patted  himself  pridefully  and 
was  prepared  to  tell  any  multitude  that  should  by  and  by 
elevate  him  to  an  office,  "  I  did  it — I  did  it  for  a  friend." 


II 

EVERYBODY'S  DAUGHTER  AND  MY  SON 

Wajeiceh  Natupski  was  a  pickle.  All  and  sundry 
were  agreed  as  to  that. 

During  Wajeiceh's  schooldays  there  was  a  great  deal 
of  talk  in  home  kitchens  about  "  associates."  A  boy 
might  be  made  or  ruined  by  his  associates.  It  was  a  pity 
that  District  Seven  had  been  invaded  by  foreigners  and 
state  kids.  The  proper  thing  was  to  frown  on  all  coast- 
ing frolics  and  ball  nines  that  included  these  elements. 

"  It  won't  be  very  much  to  your  advantage,"  a  mother 
would  say,  severely,  while  administering  to  her  offspring 
with  caraway  cookies,  "  to  be  seen  going  round  with  that 
Polish  boy." 

Thus  the  Polish  boy  and  the  state  kid  were  thrown  into 
each  other's  society,  and  by  mutually  marking  time  ar- 
rived simultaneously  at  their  fifteenth  year  and  the  ninth 
grade. 

"  Won't  get  us  into  their  old  High  School,"  they 
told  each  other  with  the  air  of  having  escaped  a  dire 
peril. 

The  state  kid  was  named  Shaum  Kelly.  He  had  been 
placed  in  West  Holly  after  a  lurid  childhood  divided  be- 
tween slums  and  institutions.  According  to  him  the 
slums  were  pleasant,  but  foodless;  the  institutions  hot- 
beds of  vice. 

Wajeiceh  and  Shaum  constructed  a  hangout  in  the 

182 


EVERYBODY'S  DAUGHTER  AND  MY  SON      183 

Bowes  woods,  making  a  tent  of  stolen  bedquilts  slung 
over  interwoven  grapevines.  West  Holly,  which  calmly 
accepted  this  friendship,  would  have  rubbed  its  eyes  had 
it  seen  who  was  often  with  them  in  his  grandfather's 
woods.  Frank  Seymour,  only  child  of  a  widow,  who  had 
come  to  the  Bowes  mansion  to  eke  out  her  small  income. 
Frank,  with  blue  eyes  and  curled  hair  in  a  crest,  might 
have  been  galvanized  from  the  frontispiece  of  some  little 
blue-and-gold  book  called  "  Orphan  Willy."  Search  out 
such  a  book.  You  will  see  the  frontispiece  had  no  chin. 
Neither  had  Frank. 

Wajeiceh  and  Shaum  considered  Frank  the  greatest 
pal  that  ever  happened.  He  furnished  the  ideas  for  the 
three.  Of  course  he  was  booked  for  the  Academy,  but 
what  should  the  others  do  now  they  had  so  cleverly 
escaped  High  School? 

"  I  got  to  work  for  my  father,"  said  Wajeiceh,  with 
the  gloom  appropriate  to  such  a  sickening  announce- 
ment, "till  I'm  twenty-one.  Then  I  guess  I'll  strike. 
Gee,  he'll  be  mad!" 

"  Hell  of  a  time  to  wait,"  said  Frank,  who  introduced 
the  profanity.  "Why  don't  you  read  the  riot  act 
now  ?  " 

"  Ouch !  "  said  Wajeiceh,  and  wriggled  at  the  assured 
result. 

"  If  any  man  laid  hands  on  me,"  said  Frank,  "  I'd 
run  away." 

Glorious  idea!  Shaum  took  it  up  at  once,  being  an 
expert  in  running  away.  "  Come  on,"  he  cried,  "  let's  do 
it.  Let's  all  do  it.  Let's  go  to  the  city.  And  when  I 
say  city  it's  the  real  city  I  do  be  meaning — not  Mifflin 
Grove." 


184  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

He  spoke  from  splendid  recollections,  when  policemen 
had  plucked  him  starving  from  gratings  over  warm  res- 
taurant kitchens. 

Frank  was  now  happy.  |  The  others  had  been 
induced  to  lead  him  into  temptation.  He  prepared  to 
fall. 

"  Listen,"  he  said.  "  I'll  put  you  wise  to  lifting  some 
stuff  at  the  house  and  we'll  go  to  the  city.  There  we'll 
live  easy.  Real  cigarettes  and  beer — not  this  sweet-fern 
thing  at  all." 

Animated  by  this  description  the  hangout  was  solemnly 
demolished.  The  quilts,  wrapped  around  stones,  were 
sunk  in  the  nighest  pond,  there  to  rise  and  give  West 
Holly  women  awful  shocks  as  they  recognized  the  Flying 
Goose  or  Love  in  Eden  patterns  missing  since  years  ago 
from  the  clothes  line.  Wajeiceh,  be  it  remembered,  was 
a  pickle!  Yet  his  imagination  did  not  now  dictate  any 
exploit  more  criminal  than  taking  a  pie  from  Nancy 
Slocumb's  pantry  window.  Frank's  soared  to  brilliant 
heights. 

"  I  say,"  he  whispered,  at  the  rendezvous,  down  the 
road  a  piece  from  the  Bowes  mansion,  "  who's  bare- 
footed?" 

Wajeiceh  was  thriftily  carrying  his  only  shoes. 

"  Slip  over  the  piaz  and  in  that  open  window.  There's 
a  bill-book  on  the  slide  of  the  desk.  I  got  to  have  it. 
Dassent  go  myself  because  the  folks  in  the  next  room 
might  hear  me  and  wonder  why  I  was  out  of  bed.  There's 
no  light  except  where  they  are." 

Wajeiceh  did  not  realize  that  this  book  held  Mr. 
Blanchard  Bowes'  profits  of  a  week's  peach  sales,  and 
that  it  would  mean  something  serious  to  be  caught.    He 


EVERYBODY'S  DAUGHTER  AND  MY  SON      185 

did  the  trick.  Mr.  Bowes,  dozing  in  the  dark,  afterward 
remembered  a  moving  shadow  that  seemed  more  sub- 
stantial than  anything  in  a  dream. 

"  Good,"  said  Frank,  pocketing  the  money  and  tossing 
the  book  into  the  bushes  with  highwaymanish  ease.  At 
Holly  depot  he  bought  tickets  for  Boston,  though  the 
other  two  thought  something  adventurous  and  economi- 
cal might  be  done  with  a  freight  train. 

"  Supposed  you  fellows  were  out  for  living  easy," 
quoth  Frank,  pumping  change  into  a  slot-machine. 

The  journey  was  uneventful  except  for  the  brilliant 
moment  when  Frank  tipped  the  brakeman  twenty-five 
cents  for  a  pillow.  Wajeiceh  could  not  sleep  for  thinking 
of  it.  "  Easy  come,  easy  go,"  said  the  gallant  receiver 
of  stolen  goods. 

In  the  early  morning  the  boys  stood  at  the  entrance 
of  the  passenger  station.  That  city,  destined  to  give 
them  an  easy  living,  was  waking  up.  A  tall  boy  with  a 
single  leg  arranged  papers  in  the  safety  island  of  the 
square.  Other  boys  swept  walks.  One  came  out  of  a 
restaurant  and  slapped  on  the  glass  a  sign  reading  "  Com- 
bination breakfast  thirty  cents."  It  was  so  new  that  the 
purple  fluid  ran  over  last  night's  signs,  oatmeal  and  eggs 
putting  welsh  rabbit  in  the  discard. 

The  wandering  senses  of  the  boys  were  brought  to  a 
focus  by  a  loud  question,  "  Who  wants  to  carry  these 
cases  ?  " 

An  obvious  drummer  had  taken  two  heavy  pieces  of 
luggage  from  a  red-capped  porter.  Shaum,  once  of  the 
city,  understood.  This  pirate  would  expect  you  to  lug 
that  business  all  over  town  for  a  dollar  and  lunch  money. 
"  Nothing  doing,"  said  Shaum  airily  and  turned  away. 


186  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

Frank  was  insulted.  He,  grandson  of  "  Peach  Orchard  " 
Bowes,  a  luggage  carrier ! 

"  Hire  a  taxi,"  said  he,  "  they're  only  four  dollars  an 
hour." 

The  man  laughed  and  staggered  off. 

"What  about  eats?"  asked  Shaum,  whose  stomach 
had  become  used  to  nourishing  food  at  regular  intervals 
in  the  West  Holly  home  where  a  paternal  state  had 
placed  him. 

Frank  drew  a  hand  from  either  pocket — empty! 

"  I've  been  frisked !  "  he  said  glibly.  He  savored  the 
situation.  It  was  almost  as  if  he  read  about  it  in  paper 
covers.  Then  he  caught  Wajeiceh's  look  of  consterna- 
tion, followed  by  a  quick  "  See  you  tonight,  right  here," 
before  the  Polish  boy  was  up  the  street  in  pursuit  of  the 
drummer,  whom  he  caught  changing  hands. 

"  I'd  like  the  job,  mister,"  he  volunteered,  but  it  was 
not  so  easily  obtained. 

"  Um,"  remarked  the  man,  "  what's  the  matter  with 
that  light-complected  chap?    He  looked  honest." 

Wajeiceh  stood  in  open-mouthed  dismay.  His  bad 
reputation  seemed  to  have  followed  him  to  the  city. 
"  I'm  awful  strong,"  was  the  best  he  could  offer,  and 
when  he  did  get  the  job  it  was  for  the  dollar  minus  the 
meal. 

"  Hurry  up,  splay-foot ! "  was  his  greeting  from 
Shaum  that  evening  at  the  place  of  meeting.  "  We  got  a 
dandy  room.  Rent?  The  old  woman  didn't  ask  for  it 
in  advance.    She  said  Frank  looked  honest." 

The  boy  who  looked  honest  was  laid  across  the  bed, 
with  his  feet  on  a  pillow.  "  This  is  the  life,"  he  ob- 
served, wrenching  the  top  from  a  beer  bottle. 


EVERYBODY'S  DAUGHTER  AND  MY  SON      187 

"  Fool,  you,"  was  Shaum's  comment  on  Wajeiceh's 
first  day  in  the  city.  "  Padded  the  hoof  and  blistered 
the  two  hands  of  you,  and  for  what  ?  " 

Wajeiceh  laid  the  dollar  bill  on  the  bureau.  The 
others  regarded  it  with  proper  scorn.  Work  ten  hours 
for  that!     Work! 

Nevertheless  they  were  quite  willing  it  should  pay  for 
three  suppers. 

The  landlady  seemed  to  have  borrowed  the  drummer's 
spectacles.  "That  Polander  your  chum?"  she  asked 
the  angel-faced  Frank  next  morning. 

"  I'm  helping  him  out  a  bit,"  said  Frank,  jingling  the 
coins  remaining  from  Wajeiceh's  earnings. 

"  Take  my  advice,  don't  trust  him.  He's  got  a  bad 
face,"  said  the  woman,  and  went  on  working  with  the 
feather  duster,  flirting  dirt  from  one  piece  of  furniture 
and  leaving  it  to  settle  on  another. 

After  coffee  and  sinkers  Wajeiceh  proposed  visiting 
a  place  which  he  had  discovered  the  day  before,  where 
"  Help  Wanted  "  advertisements  could  be  read  on  big 
cards,  but  "Who  wants  to  be  reading  'em?"  Shaum 
wanted  to  know,  and  Frank  said,  "  You  keep  forgetting 
we  came  to  the  city  to  live  easy." 

Wajeiceh  was  very  grateful  for  this  kind  reminder, 
but  a  few  hours  spent  in  eating  nothing  reconciled  the 
others  to  the  Polish  boy's  seeking  a  job.  He  became 
one  of  a  "  crew "  that  went  about  belawned  suburbs 
ringing  doorbells  and  distributing  samples  of  something 
nobody  wanted.  A  man  waited  at  the  head  of  the  street 
and  saw  that  no  house  was  neglected,  not  even  those 
approached  by  thirty-eight  steps.  Each  evening  he  as- 
sembled his  assistants  on  a  corner,  where  there  was  a  flat- 


188  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

topped  fence,  and  paid  off.  You  were  expected  to  show 
up  next  day.  If  you  didn't  he  cursed  and  put  another  ad. 
in  the  want  column. 

Wajeiceh  grew  footsore  and  haggard,  also  dirty.  One 
evening  Shaum  went  out  and  did  not  return.  "  Gee,  I 
shall  miss  Shaum,"  was  Frank's  comment,  "  I  shall  be 
alone  all  day."  Wajeiceh,  slopping  about  in  mangled 
shoes,  wherein  cardboard  inner  soles  alone  kept  his  toes 
from  the  pavement,  was  haunted  by  a  picture  of  Frank 
alone  all  day.  Tired  as  he  would  be,  he  pinched  him- 
self awake  evenings  to  listen  while  Frank  talked.  Frank 
was  a  very  good  talker,  but  Wajeiceh  was  always  cruelly 
sleepy.  Then,  too,  he  had  to  be  up  early  to  provide 
Frank  with  daily  cigarettes.  Frank  said  it  wasn't  worth 
while  for  him  to  get  up.  Just  as  soon  as  he  got  up  he 
would  begin  eating  breakfast  and  that  would  be  a  nice 
state  of  affairs. 

"  It  ain't  so  bad,  being  alone  all  day,"  was  his  comment 
after  a  week  had  passed  and  Shaum  failed  to  return. 
"  Besides,  more  eats  for  little  Frankie — and  you." 

Wajeiceh  was  very  grateful  for  this  recognition  of 
his  needs,  though  he  still  ate  much  less  than  he  wanted. 
He  had  been  used  to  something  approaching  it  at  papa's 
in  West  Holly.  He  still  deceived  himself  with  the  idea 
that  he  was  living  easy.  He  wished  he  could  get  a  better 
job,  so  that  Frank  might  have  more  to  spend.  It  was 
pretty  bum,  being  right  in  the  city,  where  were  all  sorts 
of  shows,  and  short  of  coin.  Nor  was  Wajeiceh  devoid 
of  ambition.  He  believed  he  could  command  a  "  crew  " 
himself  if  he  had  a  decent  rig.  Frank  licked  his  lips.  A 
boss  got  twelve  dollars  a  week.  Lots  of  spending  in 
twelve  dollars.     He  proposed  Wajeiceh  should  put  on 


EVERYBODY'S  DAUGHTER  AND  MY  SON      189 

what  of  his  would  fit.  And — say — here's  ten  cents.  Get 
your  pants  pressed ! 

Wajeiceh,  meekly  accepting  a  dime  of  his  own  money, 
paid  unconscious  tribute  to  the  dignity  that  attends  those 
who  live  easy.  Pretty  well  turned  out  he  went  after 
the  better  job,  animated  by  the  desire  to  have  a  larger 
sum  for  slipping  Frank. 

Was  he  a  dupe?  He  was  still  a  little  bewildered  at 
being  admitted  to  the  friendship  of  Blanchard  Bowes's 
grandson.  He  lacked  the  self-reliance  of  his  brother 
Stanislarni,  who  at  this  very  time  was  completing  his 
freshman  year  at  college  with  a  record  of  "  making 
good,"  in  the  face  of  more  than  common  obstacles. 
Stanislarni  owed  a  great  deal  to  his  American  chum, 
too;  but  he  had  not  chosen  a  Frank  Seymour.  Arthur 
Slocumb  would  never  have  made  a  pretty  frontispiece, 
but  he  had  a  chin. 

During  Wajeiceh's  temporary  absence  Blanchard 
Bowes  arrived  at  the  furnished  room.  He  had  been  de- 
layed in  tracing  the  boy  by  Mrs.  Seymour's  frantic  re- 
fusals to  have  him  looked  for  anywhere  except  in  hospi- 
tals and  morgues,  but  the  return  of  Shaum  Kelly  to  West 
Holly  had  helped  a  great  deal. 

Frank  was  discovered  living  easy  in  trousers  and 
undershirt. 

"How's  this?"  said  Mr.  Bowes.  "Where  are  your 
shoes  ?  " 

"  Worn  out,  poor  darling,  on  the  cruel  pavements," 
sobbed  his  mother.  "  We  must  buy  a  pair  at  once. 
Six  D  with  a  box  toe.  I  always  pay  seven  dol- 
lars." 

Grandfather  stirred  not.     "  Where's  the  rest  of  your 


190  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

suit?  "  he  asked,  hard  as  when  he  was  extolling  a  carload 
of  seconds  in  the  open  market. 

Mother  knew.  "  Pawned !  "  she  shrieked.  "  To  keep 
from  starvation.  Oh,  hurry  to  a  drug  store  for  beef 
extract.     You  have  pawned  it?" 

"  Not  exactly,"  murmured  Frank.  The  old  man  was 
looking  at  the  still  smoking  stubs  in  the  ash  tray,  and 
getting  ready  to  disbelieve  any  hard-luck  story.  So 
Frank  told  the  truth.  He  had  loaned  his  clothes  to  an- 
other fellow,  so  the  other  fellow  might  get  a  job. 

"  Dear,  unselfish  boy ! "  yelled  Mrs.  Seymour,  and 
Blanchard  Bowes  acknowledged  she  was  right.  Yes, 
though  the  borrower  was  the  impossible  Natupski. 

"  Your  evil  genius,  sweetheart,"  moaned  Mrs.  Seymour. 
"  We  know  it  all — how  he  stole  grandfather's  money 
and  Mrs.  Perkins's  only  bedquilt  pieced  by  her  dead 
sister  in  turkey  red.  I  suppose  you  stopped  here  with  him 
to  save  him  from  ruin  in  this  awful  city.  Now  we  will 
take  you  home  and  send  you  to  a  military  academy  at 
Peekskill.  Your  grandfather  says  all  letters  you  write 
must  be  supervised,  but  you  can  put  any  special  message 
under  the  stamp  and  I'll  never  fail  to  look." 

Mrs.  Seymour  and  her  recovered  jewel  rode  in  the 
parlor  car.  Mr.  Bowes  took  stern  charge  of  the  Natupski 
culprit  in  the  smoker.  Kani  Natupski  was  in  waiting. 
Mr.  Bowes  handed  over  the  boy  as  to  the  keeper  of  a 
prison  van. 

"  Here  he  is,"  said  the  exasperated  grandfather. 
"  Better  give  him  a  licking  he'll  remember." 

"  Sure,"  replied  Mr.  Natupski.  "  Leaving  right  in 
time  to  make  hay.    You  lick  yours,  too?  " 

"Well,  I'm  afraid  I  can't,"  was  the  reply.     "His 


EVERYBODY'S  DAUGHTER  AND  MY  SON      191 

mother  don't  think  he  was  to  blame.     'Twas  your  boy 
led  him  into  it." 

West  Holly  was  of  the  same  opinion,  to  a  woman. 
"  You  see  what  happens,"  they  said,  "  to  any  boy  who 
goes  around  with  a  Natupski." 


ii 

After  his  artistic  beating,  the  story  of  which  was  long 
prominent  in  West  Holly  horrors,  Wajeiceh  remained 
immured  in  fertilizers,  obscured  by  haystacks  and  fat 
swine,  for  over  a  year.  Then,  considering  him  cured 
of  his  propensity  to  wild  oats,  his  father  gave  him  a 
dime  and  let  him  go  to  cattle  show.  It  was  a  very  wee 
cattle  show,  held  at  Holly  Centre  in  a  cheerful  spot 
bounded  on  two  sides  by  the  graveyard.  One  would  not 
suppose  a  boy  could  get  into  mischief  there.  He  might 
only  waste  a  nickel  bucking  the  knife  game,  or  tire  himself 
at  weight-lifting  more  than  he  would  by  a  day  in  the 
harvest  field.    Ah,  but  this  is  reckoning  without  girls ! 

Wajeiceh  had  never  noticed  girls  before  this  day. 
At  fifteen  minutes  past  two  he  was  considering  whether 
he  should  spend  his  dime  on  the  three-legged  calf  or  his 
stomach.  At  2  125  he  was  inviting  Harriott  Bruill  to  have 
an  ice-cream  cone.  Harriott  should  have  accepted,  be- 
cause it  was  the  only  "  attention  "  she  was  to  receive  all 
day.  Harriott  was  an  ordinary  girl,  with  freckles;  not 
hair  enough  for  the  style,  but  clever  at  eking  it  out  with 
ribbon;  a  blue  muslin  blouse,  and  a  string  of  beads.  She 
was  always  fingering  the  beads.  Her  hands  were  pretty, 
white,  and  bloodless.  They  were  very  different  from 
Natupski  hands.     Wajeiceh  knew  her  slightly — she  had 


192  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

been  to  District  Seven  "  off  and  on  "  while  visiting  her 
grandmother,  old  Mercy  Bruill. 

"  Oh,  I  guess  not,"  she  said,  but  never  offered  to 
move  from  before  the  stand  where  the  cones  were  dis- 
played. 

"  Come  on — please,"  said  Wajeiceh.  He  had  wild 
visions  of  a  halcyon  afternoon,  spent  walking  beside 
Harriott  to  every  point  of  interest  on  the  grounds. 

He  ordered  the  cones  prepared  and  held  one  out,  en- 
ticing in  pink  and  brown.  Harriott  wanted  it.  The  day 
was  sultry,  she  was  thirsty,  and  she  wanted  it.  She  also 
wanted  a  beau.  She  had  never  had  one,  and  the  fact  was 
against  her  at  home.  u  I  was  wrong  to  let  your  grand- 
mother call  you  Harriott,"  her  mother  had  been  known 
to  say.    "  It's  a  regular  old  maid's  name." 

But — to  go  with  a  Natupski!  to  meet  other  girls 
and  see  their  first  look  of  ardent  envy  turn  to  one  of 
derision. 

"  I  guess  I  mustn't  stay,"  she  mumbled,  and  as  she 
turned  Wajeiceh's  rejected  offering  was  thrown  into  the 
Midway  mud.  He  stood  aghast,  glaring  at  the  pink 
ruin  which  stood  for  so  much  loss.  Turned  down!  In 
the  face  of  multitudes,  turned  down!  Two  other  girls 
who  had  been  watching,  asked  each  other  with  exquisite 
sarcasm,  "Did  you  ever  get  left?" 

Wajeiceh  had  as  soon  proffered  his  nickel's  worth  to 
either  as  to  Harriott.  He  was  yearning  for  zest  in  life. 
If  those  girls  had  let  him  walk  about  with  them,  had 
allowed  him  to  play  a  few  games  of  croquet  in  their  door- 
yards,  had  invited  him  to  a  "  promenade  concert "  in  the 
winter,  they  would  have  done  all  the  missionarying  re- 
quired of  a  pretty  girl.    A  capital  opportunity  for  civic 


EVERYBODY'S  DAUGHTER  AND  MY  SON      193 

improvement  was  lost  that  autumn  afternoon  when  Har- 
riott turned  away  and  Phoebe  and  Beulah  laughed. 

Wajeiceh  flung  the  other  cone  at  Harriott.  It  landed 
splash  between  her  shoulders.  The  two,  while  scraping 
off  ice-cream  and  quieting  Harriott's  convulsive  sobs,  con- 
gratulated her  on  having  shown  the  Polish  scum  its  place. 
Phoebe  and  Beulah  believed,  because  their  parents  had 
told  them  so,  that  we  could  sell  farms  to  Natupskis,  go 
to  school  with  Natupskis,  naturalize  Natupskis  (male) 
and  count  their  votes  town  meeting  day,  and  all  the 
while  keep  Natupskis  at  arm's  length  socially. 

Wajeiceh  was  a  festering  sore  on  youthful  Holly.  Not 
being  cured,  he  became  offensive. 

The  next  time  his  father  gave  him  a  day  off  he  went 
to  Mifflin  Grove  and  walked  three  times  round  the  rail- 
road station.  A  very  pretty  girl  with  pink  cheeks  smiled 
at  him.  Wajeiceh's  eyes  were  dulled  by  following  fur- 
rows; he  felt  flattered,  and  smiled  back. 

"  Looking  for  a  friend  ?  "  she  asked.  "  So'm  I.  Did 
you  ever  get  left  ?  " 

Wajeiceh  could  now  grin  at  the  phrase.  Maisy — she 
said  her  name  was  Maisy — took  his  arm  openly  and  led 
him  into  the  street.  She  had  come  to  Mifflin,  she  de- 
clared, on  a  visit,  but  there  was  no  one  to  meet  her. 
She'd  just  go  in  a  booth  and  'phone  and  then  he 
could  take  her  anywhere  he  wished.  Had  he  a  nickel 
handy  ? 

His  father  having  given  him  a  whole  quarter  of  a 
dollar,  he  had.  Afterward  they  sat  an  hour  in  the 
park.  The  things  she  asked  him  to  buy  before  the  hour 
was  up!  Wajeiceh  didn't  fancy  this  line  of  talk,  as  it 
reminded  him  constantly  that  he  had  no  money,  but  he 


194  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

was  very  happy  sitting  by  Maisy's  side.  Several  West 
Holly  people  passed  by  and  saw  him. 

When  he  went  away  Maisy  reminded  him  she  would 
be  in  the  same  place  the  next  Saturday  afternoon. 
Wajeiceh  didn't  think  he  would  meet  her  then,  because 
his  revenge  on  Holly  was  already  complete.  He'd  got  a 
girl !  He'd  shown  'em.  But  back  in  West  Holly,  mixing 
mortar — Kani  Natupski  was  setting  the  neighbor- 
hood an  example  in  the  shape  of  a  cement  milk  cooler — 
he  kept  telling  himself  that  Maisy  would  be  in  the  same 
place  next  Saturday  afternoon.  He  wondered  if  she 
would  wear  the  same  clothes  and  if  one  of  her  cheeks 
was  always  redder  than  the  other.  And  he  thought  he 
would  ask  her  why  she  drew  little  lines  about  her  eyes. 

It  seemed  to  be  settled  that  he  would  meet  her  Saturday 
afternoon,  and  she  did  not  appear  surprised  to  see  him. 
He  asked  about  the  eyes. 

"  What  d'ye  make  pictures  of  black  lines  about  'em 
for?  "  he  blurted  out.  He  didn't  care  if  she  was  peeved. 
Harriott  Bruill  and  the  girls  of  Holly  had  it  in  their 
power  to  make  him  wretched  or  happy  on  the  turn  of  a 
word,  but  Maisy  was  powerless.    She  was  also  shameless. 

"  Why,  to  make  my  eyes  look  big,  stupid !  "  she  ex- 
claimed, and  beamed  under  her  lacy  hat  brim. 

Wajeiceh  was  not  impressed.  "  Big  eyes,  glutton," 
he  observed,  remembering  the  old  country  proverb  often 
employed  by  his  father  to  repress  the  family  appetite. 

"  You've  got  big  eyes,"  pouted  Maisy,  in  her  best 
wise  wax-doll  manner,  and  "  There  you  have  it,"  re- 
turned Wajeiceh,  waving  his  hand. 

Quite  suddenly  Maisy  began  to  cry.  She  owed  her 
landlady,  she  confessed,  and  was  miserable  about  it.    "  I 


EVERYBODY'S  DAUGHTER  AND  MY  SON      195 

didn't  da'st  go  home  last  night  till  ever  so  late,"  she 
whispered.  '*  I  walked  the  streets  in  all  the  rain — and 
thin  shoes " 

She  showed  her  shoes  to  prove  it.  They  were  thin, 
but  bore  no  indication  of  having  been  out  in  the  rain. 
Wajeiceh  knew  something  of  thin  shoes  himself,  from 
his  attempt  to  live  easy  in  Boston,  and  emptied  his  pocket 
on  Maisy's  lap.  She  invited  him  to  come  and  see  the 
bill  lifted,  but  he  said  in  consternation,  "  I  don't  care 
what  the  dump's  like." 

To  fill  in  the  idle  time  Maisy  began  to  abuse  home- 
sheltered  girls  who  weren't  obliged  to  live  in  furnished 
rooms.  Wajeiceh  should  have  learned  about  Harriott, 
Beulah,  and  Phoebe  from  direct  association;  that  being 
impossible  he  began  to  despise  them  on  the  false  valuation 
of  a  painted  sister. 

"  High  schoolers  are  the  limit,"  Maisy  declared,  "  and 
even  the  ladies'  magazines  write  'em  up."  Which  she 
proved  by  a  news-stand.  "  Their  lady  mothers  go  to 
Daughters  of  Evolution,  and  the  girls  do  just  what  they 
like.  Lookit,  a  boy  told  me  he  knew  a  drug  store  sold 
more  dope  to  Mifflin  High  than  any  street  in  N'York." 

Wajeiceh  went  home  in  a  hurry,  with  a  bad  taste  in 
his  mouth,  but  the  story  stung.  Could  it  be  true  those 
dainty  girls  were  as  Maisy  had  described  them?  He 
wished  he  could  find  out.  But  he  would  want  to  kill 
himself  if  she  was  right. 

A  picnic  impended  in  Rivers'  Grove,  and  Wajeiceh  got 
permission  to  go.  It  was  announced  as  a  "  Get  To- 
gether "  picnic,  and  all  the  Hollys  would  be  represented. 
Great  tables  were  being  built  under  the  trees,  and  plank 
seats    arranged   alongside.      The    combined   ministerial 


196  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

force  of  the  three  villages  would  invoke  a  divine  blessing 
on  the  gathering. 

Wajeiceh,  with  boyish  faith  in  words,  believed  it  would 
be  a  "  get  together  "  picnic.  He  thought  somebody  there 
would  have  a  word  of  friendship  for  a  Natupski.  He 
was  rather  tired  of  meeting  Maisy,  and  some  instinct 
told  him  she  would  not  enjoy  the  picnic. 

"  I  won't  take  her,"  he  told  himself.  "  I'll  just  take 
sardines." 

He  had  more  money  than  usual  just  then,  having 
helped  Abner  Slocumb  build  a  cement  well  curb  in  an 
occasional  hour  when  he  would  otherwise  have  rested. 
He  bought  all  the  sardines  the  grocer  at  Holly  Centre 
had  in  stock.    He  even  remembered  lemons  and  a  knife. 

In  the  wake  of  the  post-office  clerk,  the  bookkeepers 
from  the  paper  mill,  the  butcher,  and  numerous  young 
farmers  Wajeiceh  drifted  into  the  grove.  Girls  in  white 
muslin  were  setting  the  table.  Wajeiceh  dumped  his  tin 
boxes  at  one  end  of  the  festive  board,  making  a  lemon 
pyramid  nearby. 

Soon  Tom  Newell,  who  had  bugled  in  training  camps, 
gave  them  "  taps,"  and  they,  not  knowing  it  was  inap- 
propriate, sat  down  immediately.  The  blessings  were 
asked,  and  then,  "  Oh,  we  have  sardines,"  was  the  general 
shout.  "  Somebody  has  brought  sardines.  Or  were 
they  sent  by  the  grocer?  No,  not  any  ham  sandwiches 
for  me.  Nor  cornbeef.  I  dote  on  sardines.  Never  had 
enough  sardines  in  all  my  born  days." 

The  little  fishes  went  up  and  down  the  board,  which 
became  liberally  oiled  with  splashings.  The  Methodist 
minister  took  his  on  crackers.  The  Congregationalist 
preferred  his  in  a  bread  sandwich,  with  lemon.    Others 


EVERYBODY'S  DAUGHTER  AND  MY  SON      197 

grabbed  them  by  the  tails  and  devoured  them  as  cats  do 
mice,  starting  at  the  head.  Blanchard  Bowes  alone 
skinned  his  and  removed  the  backbone,  thereby  being  half 
a  box  behind  his  neighbors. 

Wajeiceh  Natupski  ate  sandwiches  when  he  could 
reach  them.  No  one  passed  him  anything.  Every  one 
wondered  what  he  wanted  there  anyway,  at  a  "  get 
together  "  picnic.  It  was  impossible  to  get  together  when 
fellows  would  push  in  whom  it  was  desirable  to  keep  out. 

He  spoke  twice.  To  the  man  at  his  left  he  said, 
"  Please  pass  the  sardines."  He  didn't  hear  him.  Later 
he  asked  the  girl  on  his  right,  "  What  we  going  to  do 
after  supper?  "    She  didn't  hear  him,  either. 

Presently  the  young  people  grouped  themselves  under 
the  trees  by  the  side  of  the  pond  and  lifted  their  voices  in 
song.  Wajeiceh  could  sing  as  much  as  any  one  there, 
which  wasn't  much.  When  "  There's  a  Little  Spark  of 
Love  Still  Burning"  was  started,  he  joined  in.  Five 
seconds  later  he  was  singing  alone. 

In  a  bitterness  which  he  could  feel,  but  not  express,  the 
boy  hot-footed  it  to  Mifflin  Grove. 

"  What  do  you  think  ?  "  buzzed  the  rural  'phones  next 
day.  "  Whatever  do  you  think  ?  That  dreadful  Natupski 
scalawag  went  right  straight  from  the  picnic  to  a  bar- 
room in  Mifflin,  and  never  came  home  till  daylight.  He 
looked  dreadful  peak-ed.    He'll  land  in  jail  sure  as  fate." 

Wajeiceh  had  found  Maisy  in  the  park.  She  told 
him  she  was  hungry,  and  as  he  had  not  spent  quite  all 
his  money  supplying  Holly  with  sardines,  he  took  her  to 
a  place  where  they  ate  and  drank. 

Maisy  seemed  to  feel  like  talking. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "  I  like  you,  kid.     I've  a 


i98  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

darn  good  mind  to  get  you  drunk  some  night  and  marry 
you." 

Wajeiceh,  unwontedly  stimulated  by  a  pony  of  beer, 
almost  wished  she  would.  Perhaps  the  subsequent  beat- 
ing his  father  would  give  him  might  help  him  to  forget 
the  picnic  in  Rivers'  Grove. 

Maisy  went  on  telling  the  story  of  her  life.  The  rest 
of  her  name  was  Violet  Gold.  She  told  them  it  was 
Violet  Gold  when  she  went  to  work  in  the  necktie  factory 
after  she  left  school.  Her  father  had  been  a  gold-beater 
before  he  was  sent  to  the  island.  She  had  lived  in  Boston, 
on  Amethyst  Street. 

"  There  was  a  guy  ...  his  name  was  Tom  .  .  . 
some  beef  ...  he  was  always  gassing  about  the  happy 
day  when  he'd  be  raised  to  fourteen  dollars.  I  was  to 
have  my  own  oil  stove  and  he'd  say  how  perf 'ly  lovely  't 
would  be  to  come  home  and  see  me  plastering  onions 
on  the  skirt  steak.  .  .  .  You  got  a  look  like  him  when 
you  laugh.  ..." 

"  I  ain't  laughing  now,"  said  Wajeiceh,  who  believed 
every  word. 

"  'Course  not,  'cause  I'm  telling  you  a  sad  story.  Well, 
was  a  night  .  .  .  hot!  Me  and  Tom  was  on  a  street 
where  was  trees.  Never  been  there  before.  Well,  it 
was  certainly  some  street.  Make  a  corking  education  reel. 
Leaves,  you  know,  showing  their  shapes  on  the  side- 
walk. And  Tom  says,  '  Vi'let,  let's  get  married.'  Just 
like  that !  Well,  I  was  under  the  influence.  ...  I  was 
going  to  say  I  would  .  .  .  but  I  looked  up  and  there 
was  a  man.  Well,  he  was  a  man.  I'd  seen  him  before. 
Knew  I'd  see  him  again.  I  wouldn't  want  to  see  him 
again    every    day,    but    some    day    I    would    want    to 


EVERYBODY'S  DAUGHTER  AND  MY  SON      199 

and  he'd  be  right  there.  His  kind  is  always  right 
there." 

She  stopped  and  beckoned  to  a  waiter.  "  I'm  sick  of 
ginger  ale,"  she  muttered.  u  Bring  some  Scotch  and 
seltzer." 

Wajeiceh  couldn't  see  how  the  man  knew  what  she 
meant. 

The  story  was  finished  in  a  hurry.  "  I  laughed  in 
Tom's  face.  Felt  fit  to  die  that  minute.  Thought  it  was 
the  green  leaves  on  those  trees  made  me  do  it.  Because 
if  I  married  Tom  I  wouldn't  know  nothing  about  frying 
steak.  I'd  want  to  be  where  the  lights  was  bright.  Tom 
was  too  good  for  that  kind.  He  deserved  a  wife  wasn't 
city-wise. 

'*  So  I  met  the  one  in  the  spats  and  the  braid  on  the 
sides  of  his  dress  pants  and  the  rest  of  the  swell  scenery. 
It  was  one  grand  summer.  Say,  come  again  on  the 
Scotch  and  seltzer.    I  need  it  something  fierce." 

Wajeiceh  had  to  assist  her  to  the  furnished  room. 
They  were  pleasantly  met  by  a  suave  landlady  who  did 
not  in  the  least  match  Maisy's  picture.  He  held  the 
basin  while  the  woman  bathed  Maisy's  head.  When  she 
felt  better  the  girl  grabbed  his  sleeve  and  babbled  a 
sequel  to  her  story. 

"  Lookit.  Come  fall  I  went  to  that  darn  street  again. 
My  pumps  was  falling  off  my  feet  and  I  didn't  have  no 
underthings.  It  was  down  and  out,  and  the  leaves  was 
brown.  How  many  kinds  of  a  fool  was  I  ?  Tom  didn't 
get  no  country  goil.  Didn't  know  no  country  goil.  He 
went  hell  bent  after  one  worse'n  I  ever  thought  of  being. 
The  lemonade  was  sour  and  I'd  passed  up  the  sugar  once 
too  often.    And  the  leaves  was  brown.    I'd  done  different 


200  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

if  I'd  remembered  the  leaves — would — turn — brown." 

"  Kind  o'  sickening,  ain't  it  ?  "  said  the  landlady  to 
Wajeiceh.  "  But  she's  a  cute  little  thing  in  the  fore- 
noons, before  she's  been  out.  Comes  into  the  kitchen 
and  helps  me  with  the  wash  as  handy  as  can  be.  She 
knows  how — went  to  work  in  a  laundry  soon  as  she 
left  school." 

Wajeiceh  dropped  the  basin  and  let  Maisy's  head  fall. 
He  had  believed  every  word.  He  had  compared  himself 
with  Maisy,  and  when  he  saw  her  shivering  under  the 
brown  leaves  he  saw  also  Wajeiceh  Natupski  facing  the 
adamant  enfilade  of  that  "  get  together  "  picnic.  The 
girls  of  Holly  had  been  hard  as  nails,  so  he  had  turned 
to  Maisy.  And  Maisy  had  failed  him.  She  was  a  liar. 
Were  all  girls  hard  as  nails  or  liars? 

"  She  told  me  it  was  a  necktie  factory,"  was  his  bitter 
and  inadequate  explanation  to  the  landlady.  Then  he 
tore  from  the  house,  purposely  missed  the  last  car,  and 
drilled  all  the  way  to  West  Holly.  Thus  he  arrived  at 
sun-Up,  after  having  talked  his  disgust  to  Virginia  rail 
fences  along  the  way. 

Three  weeks  later  there  came  a  holiday  commemorat- 
ing the  discovery  of  America.  Wajeiceh  had  once  "  com- 
mitted to  memory  "  and  declaimed,  from  the  platform  of 
District  Seven,  a  part  of  the  "  Port  of  Ships  " : 

"...  Adm'ral,  say  but  one  good  word — 
What  shall  we  do  when  hope  is  gone?" 

The  words  leaped  as  a  leaping  sword: 
"Sail  on!  sail  on!  sail  on!  and  on!" 

Wajeiceh  wished  he  had  never  sailed  on.  He  worked 
until  mid-afternoon  in  the  "  underneath  of  the  barn." 


EVERYBODY'S  DAUGHTER  AND  MY  SON      201 

His  father  was  building  new  walls  of  cement.  Wajeiceh 
had  heard  them  say  it  would  last  longer  than  he  would, 
growing  harder  all  the  time.  He  felt  he  was  making  a 
tomb. 

Then  Novia  had  to  stick  her  head  down  and  say, 
"Whaw,  ain't  it  dark?  And  smells  like  grave- 
yards." 

Wajeiceh  knew  the  sun  was  bright  up  in  the  great 
outdoors.  It  would  be  bright  in  Mifflin  Grove.  He 
threw  down  his  trowel  and  ran  for  his  other  clothes, 
while  his  father  was  still  in  the  woods  marking  trees. 
In  due  time  he  got  to  Mifflin.  The  park  was  full  of  girls 
— American  girls,  in  kilted  skirts  and  immaculate  mid- 
dies. Wajeiceh  walked  round  and  round,  intoxicating 
himself  with  looking  at  them.  He  hankered  for  some- 
thing clean — positively  and  entirely  clean.  He  loved  his 
mother  and  sisters,  but  they  were  dirt-colored.  Even 
the  park  seemed  new-scrubbed  today  in  the  dazzling 
October  sunlight.  A  lawn  mower  had  just  passed  over 
the  grass,  the  odor  of  wilting  blades  made  Wajeiceh 
sick.  There  had  been  just  such  an  odor,  of  dying  grass, 
when  he  had  met  Harriott.  The  flowers  in  the  park 
glowed  with  hectic  fire,  as  flowers  do  when  frost  is  in  the 
air. 

Still  Wajeiceh  went  round  and  round.  Asters, 
the  smell  of  new-mown  hay,  splashing  fountains, 
a  burst  of  music,  laughing  passersby,  all  told  him 
it  was  a  holiday  and  he  was  alone.  Even  boys 
shunned  him.  Old  Frank  had  never  sent  him  so  much 
as  a  souvenir  card.  Of  course  a  Blanchard  Bowes  grand- 
son couldn't  have  remained  always  in  Boston  supported 
by  a  Natupski,  but  he  had  liked  living  easy  while  it  lasted, 


202  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

old  Frank  had.  Now  not  so  much  as  a  card.  Lots  of 
others  in  West  Holly  had  them,  though. 

In  the  glut  of  girls  four  girls  were  now  noticeable. 

First,  Beulah,  Phoebe,  and  Harriott. 

Behind  them,  Maisy.  Maisy  in  something  bright  and 
silky,  with  a  few  buttons  off,  because  buttons  off  didn't 
matter  if  you  had  style. 

Beulah,  Phoebe,  and  Harriott  shied  like  frightened 
colts  and  ran  to  a  seat  by  the  bandstand. 

■  Oh,"  gasped  one,  "did  you  see  him?" 
1  He  acted  queer." 
'  They  say  he  drinks." 
'  I  thought  he  was  going  to  speak." 
'  He  wouldn't  dare." 
1  He's  talking  to  a  dreadful  girl." 
1  See — she's  going  into  an  awful  place." 
'Where?" 
'  That  one,  with  the  swinging  doors." 

■  Hush,  Harriott.  You're  green.  We  mustn't  let  on 
we  know  what  that  place  is.    It's  a  Place ! " 

*  She's  looking  over  her  shoulder  at  him." 

'  And  beckoning.    The  bold  piece !  " 

'  Just  think,  Harriott,  how  you'd  be  feeling  if  you'd 
eaten  ice-cream  with  him  that  day  at  the  fair." 

Harriott  sighed.  "  I  suppose  he'll  end  in  the  lockup," 
she  whispered.  "  Mother  said  I  only  need  wait  a  little 
to  see  what  would  happen  to  any  girl  who  went  round 
with  a  Natupski." 

All  three  agreed  he  was  lost,  and  went  home  to  spread 
the  story  in  Holly.  But  he  was  not  lost.  He  had  told 
Maisy,  "  So  you  worked  in  a  laundry  ?  And  told  me  it 
was  a  necktie  factory ! " 


EVERYBODY'S  DAUGHTER  AND  MY  SON      203 

Her  nods  and  becks  had  no  effect  on  him.  He  went 
back  to  his  father's  barn,  took  his  licking,  and  resumed 
working  in  cement.  With  teeth  set  he  determined  he 
would  yet  make  Holly  respect  him.  And  do  it  alone — 
no  thanks  to  any  girl — Beulah,  Phoebe,  Harriott!  He 
didn't  realize  that  he  ought  to  thank  Maisy. 


Ill 

MISS  ANNIE  S.  NATUPSKI 

The  spring  she  was  sixteen  'Statia  Natupski  decided  to 
"  work  out."  The  American  inhabitants  of  West  Holly 
considered  that  it  was  what  might  have  been  expected. 
Of  course  their  daughters  wouldn't  work  out.  Their 
daughters  were  booked  for  situations  as  schoolma'ams, 
bookkeepers  in  the  mills,  or  clerking  in  a  store.  But  the 
American  parents  saw  nothing  peculiar  in  a  Natupski 
working  out,  though  as  a  matter  of  fact  Kani  Natupski 
could  buy  some  of  them  twice  over.  He  offered  himself 
to  the  world  as  filthy  and  ignorant,  and  was  taken  at  his 
own  valuation.  The  Natupski  children  were  looked 
upon  as  the  banes  of  Miss  Olive  Greene's  career  as  a 
teacher.  Every  winter  she  told  at  Hiram  Farrar's  how 
they  were  sewn  up  for  the  season,  and  every  spring  she 
hoped  they  would  be  ripped  out  long  before  it  was  reason- 
able to  expect  they  would  be. 

So,  when  'Statia  announced  she  was  going  to  Mrs. 
Sabrina  Perkins's  to  "  work  out,"  the  general  feeling  was 
only  one  of  commiseration  for  Mrs.  Perkins.  And,  after 
all,  it  was  so  difficult  to  keep  any  sort  of  help  that  per- 
haps Mrs.  Perkins  was  not  so  much  to  be  pitied.  Gone 
forever  were  the  good  old  days  when  at  the  docks  you 
could  grab  off  a  green  girl  who  was  open  to  teaching  be- 
cause up  to  sailing  she  had  done  nothing  but  herd  rein- 
deer.     Nowadays    even    the    steerage   passengers    had 

204 


MISS  ANNIE  S.  NATUPSKI  205 

"  taken  D.  S."  in  their  own  lands,  demanded  six  dollars 
a  week  and  got  it. 

One  beautiful  spring  day  'Statia  wiped  the  hearth 
with  the  dishcloth,  hung  the  glass  towels  on  the  roller 
ready  for  the  hired  man's  face,  and  found  a  place  for 
the  frying  pan  in  the  china  closet  next  the  opalescent 
finger-bowls.  She  had  now  been  sixteen  weeks  with 
Mrs.  Perkins  and  felt  all  American  housewifery  at  her 
command. 

"  I  guess  that  looks  pretty  good,"  she  muttered,  as  she 
pulled  down  the  sleeves  of  her  shirtwaist,  and  decorated 
the  back  of  a  dining-chair  with  her  seersucker  apron. 

Then  she  went  out  on  the  piazza  and  abruptly  told  Mrs. 
Perkins  she'd  go  home. 

Mrs.  Perkins  was  surprised — as  she  worded  it  "  struck 
all  of  a  heap." 

"Home,  'Statia?    Why,  you've  only  just  come." 

"  No'm.  Las'  March  I  left  backside  the  mountain.  I 
guess  I  go  home." 

"  But,  'Statia,  think  how  much  I've  taught  you.  Why, 
when  you  came  you  put  the  knives  on  the  lefthand  side 
of  the  plates,  and  you  washed  the  cups  and  saucers  after 
the  gridiron  in  the  same  water,  and  you  served  lettuce 
in  a  colander  dripping  all  over  the  best  tablecloth,  and 
you  put  kerosene  in  the  oil  cruet,  and  you  never  heard 
of  scalding  the  skin  off  tomatoes,  and  you  threw  out  the 
rind  of  the  cantaloupe,  and  put  the  seeds  on  the  table  in 
soup  plates  with  dessert  spoons,  and " 

"  No'm.  Yes'm.  Now  I  learned  all  those  thing.  I 
guess  I  go  home." 

"  And,"  the  infatuated  mistress  went  on,  "  you  hadn't 
any  proper  underclothes,  'Statia.     Didn't  I  buy  you  a 


206  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

cut  of  longcloth,  and  paper  patterns,  and  show  you  how 
to  finish  'em  after  I'd  done  the  machine  stitching?  " 

"  Yes'm.  The  combinations  is  nice  sure  and  that 
edging  you  give  me  perfectly  grand.    I  guess  I  go " 

"  And  your  room,  'Statia.  At  your  papa's  you  slept 
on  the  floor  and  didn't  know  the  meaning  of  a  chif- 
fonier. I've  set  apart  that  little  chamber  for  you  to 
yourself,  and  the  iron  three-quarter  bed  with  ruffled 
pillow-slips,  all  complete,  and  a  stand  and  candlestick  like 
a  picture.  Oh,  'Statia!  Besides,  it's  haying,  and  I  don't 
know  how  I  can  get  along  with  the  extra  men  and  baby." 

"  Yes'm.  My  papa,  he's  haying,  too.  I  guess  I  go 
home." 

"  The  baby,  'Statia.  However  can  you  leave  her  ?  She 
loves  you  so,  and  puts  out  her  little  hands  mornings  for 
you  to  play  with  her,  like  you  know  how.  And  I  will 
say  this  for  you,  'Statia,  ignorant  as  you  are,  you  cer- 
tainly have  a  way  with  babies.  Isabel  took  to  you  right 
straight  off." 

"  Yes'm.  Isabel  awful  nice  baby.  My  mamma  got 
a  baby.    She's  a  boy.    I  guess  I  go  home." 

"  Go,"  was  the  command  jerked  out  of  Mrs.  Perkins 
by  the  exasperation  of  the  moment.  "  And  don't  think 
I'll  ever  take  you  back." 

"  No'm,"  returned  'Statia,  promptly  bursting  into 
tears,  and  at  the  instant  eagerly  clutching  the  last  of  her 
wages  which  Mrs.  Perkins  reluctantly  produced  from  a 
mesh  bag.  "  I  think  I  won't.  My  papa  don't  like  me 
to  work  out  no  more." 

Mrs.  Perkins,  in  the  intervals  left  after  doing  her 
own  work  through  haying,  waxed  voluble  over  her 
wrongs. 


MISS  ANNIE  S.  NATUPSKI  207 

"  I  took  that  girl,  Mrs.  Bowes,  filthy,  absolutely  un- 
knowing of  the  commonest  ways  of  decency.  She  was 
bright  and  teachable,  I  admit,  and  picked  up  things  fine. 
Thinks  I  if  she  stays  a  year  I'll  make  something  of  her. 
And  she  leaves  at  the  end  of  sixteen  weeks.  No  quarrel, 
no  reason  for  going,  just  that  Polish  obstinacy — '  I  guess 
I  go  home.'  Of  course  if  the  little  tyke  was  homesick 
I'd  gladly  have  let  her  have  a  week  off,  for  I  suppose 
they  be  attached  to  their  folks,  queer  as  they  seem  to 
us;  but  there  was  no  reasoning  with  her,  so  away  she  goes, 
bag  and  baggage,  and  I  suppose  that's  the  end.  I 
wouldn't  recommend  her,  and  she'll  come  to  no  good  in 
that  den  of  filth." 

Mrs.  Bowes  knew  it  even  better  than  Mrs.  Perkins, 
being  a  nearer  neighbor. 

"  No  proper  furniture  at  all,"  said  she. 

11  No  regular  meal  times." 

"  Always  a  baby,  yet  no  baby  clothes  on  the  line " 

"  For  that  matter  no  washday " 

"  Children  playing  in  the  cow  stable  and  chickens 
roosting  in  the  kitchen " 

"  Not  a  mop " 

"  Nor  a  dishpan.    Dishes  right  in  the  sink." 

"  An  old  stocking  for  a  dishcloth  and  the  same  one  to 
wash  the  children,  if  they  ever  are  washed " 

"  In  winter  a  pan  on  the  back  of  the  stove  out  of  which 
comes  water  to  boil  coffee  and  into  which  go  hands  and 
soiled  clothes " 

The  Natupski  house  seemed  a  collection  of  negations, 
and  so  indeed  it  appeared  to  little  'Statia  when  she  ar- 
rived after  her  education  in  Mrs.  Perkins's  kitchen.  She 
had  learned  so  much — where  all  was  new  one  acquired 


208  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

knowledge  with  every  waking  moment — that  it  had 
seemed  to  her  impossible  to  wait  another  day  without  tell- 
ing papa  and  mamma.  They,  of  course,  could  not  imag- 
ine the  pleasure  of  sleeping  in  sheets  and  eating  from  a 
table  covered  with  a  cloth,  nor  how  much  better  one 
felt  after  a  meal  of  soup,  meat,  vegetables,  salad,  pie  and 
tea,  than  when  breakfast,  dinner,  and  supper  were  alike 
the  unpalatable  broken  bread  and  boiled  chicory.  Be- 
sides, 'Statia  had  read  several  articles  which  Mrs.  Perkins 
had  put  in  her  way,  written  by  great  men  and  women 
about  exactly  such  people  as  her  papa  and  mamma,  people 
who  came  from  far-off  places  to  America  and  made  the 
mistake  of  living  in  the  old  way. 

"  It  say,  papa,"  she  chattered,  on  the  evening  of  her 
arrival,  "  that  in  America  one  should  live  like  people  here. 
So  one  gets  to  be  like  them." 

"  Huh  ?  "  papa  snorted.  Who  wanted  to  be  like  'em  ? 
Mostly  Abner  Slocumbs,  farms  mortgaged  and  buying 
pianos. 

"  Oh,  not  always,  papa.  Look  at  Mr.  Perkins  and  Mr. 
Bowes,  rich  men  and  Americans." 

This  Kani  Natupski  acknowledged,  but  anyway  they 
didn't  make  it  on  their  farms.  Bowes  was  a  big 
politicker,  and  Perkins  got  paid  for  collecting  taxes. 

"  Well,  papa,  but  they  get  'lected.  And  what's  to  keep 
you  from  being  'lected  to  something  sometime  ?  You  got 
nationalized  papers,  ain't  you?  And  you  go  to  town 
meetings.  Only  we  should  live  like  Americans,  so  the 
folks  who  vote  for  folks  see  you  are  reg'lar  cit'zen." 

Natupski  swelled  with  pride  for  a  moment,  then  the 
caution  bred  by  a  childhood  of  poverty  and  repression 
asserted  itself  and  he  shook  his  head.     Perhaps  when 


MISS  ANNIE  S.  NATUPSKI  209 

the  boys  grew  up  things  would  be  different.     He  was 
as  he  was. 

"  The  boys,"  broke  in  'Statia.  "  Sure,  the  boys  will 
do  big  things.  Only  they  must  have  American  names. 
We  must  all  have  American  names." 

Mrs.  Natupski,  who  had  been  foddering  the  cattle,  en- 
tered at  this  juncture  and  sat  down  heavily.  Even  better 
than  Kani  did  she  appreciate  the  prettiness  of  'Statia, 
with  her  hair  kept  in  place  by  combs  and  a  black  ribbon, 
neat  shoes  and  stockings  on  her  trim  feet,  a  well-hung 
linen  skirt  (cut  down  from  one  of  Mrs.  Perkins's),  and 
the  shirtwaist  bought  with  the  first  week's  pay.  Still,  she 
was  amazed  at  such  revolutionary  talk.  American  names, 
indeed?    Where  did  that  idea  come  from? 

"  One  from  the  old  country,  mamma,"  returned  'Statia, 
"  a  big  thick  book,  and  the  lady  who  wrote  it  named  Mary 
Antin.  She  and  her  papa  and  mamma  and  brothers  and 
sisters  came  from  Polotzk  not  so  long  ago  and  right  off 
took  American  names.  In  Polotzk  she  was  Mashke,  but 
Mary  Antin  she  is  now  and  her  dinner  she  eats  with 
presidents,  too." 

Kani  made  his  wife  get  up  so  he  could  have  a  chair 
in  which  to  put  his  feet.  Then  he  remembered  that  every 
one  in  West  Holly,  in  the  whole  town,  knew  him  as  Kani 
Natupski,  and  Stanislarni  had  got  into  college  without  an 
American  name. 

"  All  right,"  shouted  'Statia,  with  the  zeal  of  the  true 
convert.  "  Let  'em  stay  like  they  are.  My  name's 
Annie  S.  Natupski,  and  don't  you  forget  it." 

Then  she  went  upstairs  to  bed  on  the  floor  along  with 
little  sister  Novia,  determined  it  was  the  very  last  night 
she  would  ever  sleep  that  way. 


210  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

The  American  name  worked  wonders.  Under  it  'Statia 
installed  white  iron  beds  with  National  springs  complete, 
and  papa  and  mamma  actually  slept  thereon,  though  the 
first  muttered  "  Tin !  "  when  they  creaked,  and  mamma 
thought  she  could  never  be  really  comfortable  on  any- 
thing but  a  tick  fresh  stuffed  with  straw.  Fly  screens, 
too,  appeared  in  every  window,  and  papa  was  made 
properly  apologetic  whenever  he  forgot  and  propped  the 
door  open.  Nor  did  'Statia  feel  peeved  when,  of  an 
evening,  she  trimmed  the  Rochester  lamp  and  set  it  cozily 
on  the  round  table  in  the  front  room,  with  the  Morris 
chair  and  willow-rocker  hard  by,  only  to  see  their  natural 
occupants  making  excuses  to  seek  a  congenial  atmos- 
phere. She  followed  to  the  vicinity  of  the  hog-pen  and 
said  reproachfully,  "  Papa,  I  don't  like  it  for  you  to  let 
me  spend  money  on  tables  and  chairs  'less  you  use  'em." 

If  papa  made  an  exclamation  that  sounded  very  profane 
it  was  in  a  language  'Statia  was  rapidly  forgetting,  and 
he  looked  ashamed  directly  afterward. 

Another  day,  "  Papa,  I  made  for  you  a  punkin  pie. 
It's  like  the  Americans  eat." 

And  she  sat  smiling  at  his  right  hand  until  a  wedge 
disappeared. 

Again,  "  Oh,  papa,  see  how  splendid  I  scrubbed  the 
floor.    With  sand,  like  Mrs.  Slocumb  showed  me." 

He  truthfully  admired  the  shining  boards,  glad  this 
day  he  was  not  made  to  eat  another  pie ;  he  felt  akin  to  a 
criminal  when  he  managed  to  slop  a  few  quarts  of  swill 
on  them.  'Statia  said  he  ought  to — and  the  pantry  was 
no  place  for  a  swill  barrel,  anyway. 

With  mamma  she  felt  she  should  have  no  difficulty, 
for  mamma  had  once,  on  a  never-to-be-forgotten  occa- 


MISS  ANNIE  S.  NATUPSKI  211 

sion,  the  birth  of  Yadna,  emancipated  herself  from  cer- 
tain Old-World  customs,  and  they  had  never  been  re- 
sumed when  Yan  came  along  two  years  later.  So  in  her 
presence  'Statia  cheerfully  went  about  sniffing  at  the  cook- 
ing pots,  and  remarking  that  a  single  shirt  wasn't  clothes 
enough  for  a  five-year-old  Yadna  even  in  summer. 
'Statia  gave  orders,  further,  that  mamma  was  to  do  no 
more  field  work,  but  sit  on  the  piazza  for  hours  making 
embroidery  like  Mrs.  Bowes  and  Mrs.  Perkins.  Mrs. 
Natupski's  fingers  were  somewhat  stiff  for  the  needle,  but 
she  seldom  lifted  her  eyes  from  its  shining  point — not 
even  when  she  suspected  the  hired  boy  was  pulling  up  the 
vegetables  and  hoeing  the  weeds. 

'Statia,  being  possessed  with  the  energy  of  youth  and 
the  hopefulness  of  a  nation  that  ventures  to  emigrate, 
enjoyed  herself  in  this  self-appointed  mission.  How 
much  better  it  was  for  her  papa  to  spend  money  now, 
than  to  hoard  it  as  he  had  done.  Presently  she  would 
prove  to  him  that  he  did  want  a  coat  of  paint  on  the 
house  and  a  rambler  rose  over  the  door.  She  had  al- 
ready told  him  to  feel  shame  for  uprooting  the  woodbine 
when  he  bought  the  place  from  Mrs.  Judson  Buckland 
the  year  she — 'Statia — was  born.  As  for  eating  from 
the  kettle,  and  wearing  a  nightshirt,  "  Don't,  papa ! " 
and  "  It  ain't  decent  not  to  do  so,"  had  become  words 
she  repeated,  parrotlike,  all  day  long. 

Thus  things  stood  at  Natupski's  when  news  arrived 
that  Cousin  Anton  was  coming  to  West  Holly.  He 
too  was  a  Natupski,  and  papa  had  not  heard  from  him  in 
years.  He  wrote  that  he  was  quite  worn  out  with  in- 
justice, that  now  he  began  to  feel  he  was  "  spinning  fine  " 
and,  though  not  of  adventurous  spirit,  he  had  turned  his 


212  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

possessions  into  money  and  was  sailing  for  America.  He 
arrived  carrying  an  extension  case  which  the  younger 
Natupskis  held  was  stuffed  with  rubles. 

'Statia  had  prepared  to  lionize  him,  but  he  looked  too 
much  like  papa  to  be  very  interesting.  Hard  and  unre- 
mitting labor,  in  both  cases,  had  made  the  men  wizened, 
knock-kneed,  stoop-shouldered  before  their  time. 

The  children  were  presented  to  the  new  old  cousin, 
in  turn,  and  with  elaborate  exposition  of  name 
and  capability.  He  examined  each  with  the  air  of  a 
genial  slave-driver.  'Statia  was  rather  pleased  that  he 
spoke  longest  about  her.  Afterward  her  parents  seemed 
to  forget  everything  but  their  relative.  The  little  ones 
might  have  fallen  asleep  all  over  the  floor  but  for  'Statia. 
She  told  mamma  so  in  the  somewhat  severe  tone  she  had 
unconsciously  adopted  of  late,  but  mamma  did  not  hear. 
She  was  listening,  spellbound,  while  Cousin  Anton  re- 
lated gossip  of  one  "  Pani  Marya  " — whom  it  appeared 
mamma  had  known  in  Poland.  'Statia  got  the  children 
upstairs,  and  presently  came  down  with  her  crocheting. 
Seated  by  the  window  she  listened  scornfully  to  the 
infatuated  conversation  of  the  three  elders,  sprawled 
over  the  table,  on  which  Kani  had  put  both  cider  and  sour 
wine,  and  where  a  bottle  of  weird  shape  (perhaps  smug- 
gled by  Cousin  Anton)  was  exuding  a  colorless  liquor  of 
great  potency. 

"  Wiewilgas,"  "  the  hoopoos,"  "  then  I  gave  him  some- 
thing for  a  keepsake — oh,  a  good  beating,"  "  Jolkevski 
from  Myemtsevich,"  "  5  zloty,  10  groshes,"  "  no  English 
but  a  toothful,"  "Upper  Kryvoda,  Lower,  Vyvlash- 
chyntse" — over  and  over  such  talk  repeated  itself,  as 
the  chorus  when  you  sang  "  Yankee  Doodle."     'Statia 


MISS  ANNIE  S.  NATUPSKI  213 

considered  this  a  poor  way  to  welcome  a  newcomer  to 
America.  Why  not  speak  of  the  land  he  was  to  make  his 
own?  Brag  of  the  R.  F.  D.  and  the  schools  it  didn't 
cost  a  cent  to  go  to. 

Impatiently,  'Statia  realized  that  her  parents  hadn't 
been  so  happy  as  this  for  a  long  time.  She  it  was  who 
had  danced  and  clapped  hands  when  the  beds  and  tables 
were  put  in  place,  but  papa's  looks  were  gloomy,  and 
mamma  had  sighed.  Now  how  their  eyes  glistened  and 
what  questions  fell  eagerly  from  their  parted  lips.  Yet 
all  were  talking  of  places  none  would  ever  see  again. 
To  iconoclastic  youth  it  was  a  sad  waste  of  enthusiasm. 

She  looked  up  and  caught  the  eye  of  Cousin  Anton. 
He  turned  to  papa  with  a  query.  What  did  papa  reply? 
"  Sixteen."  He  had  asked  her  age.  "  Upper  and 
Lower  "  collections  of  consonants  now  disappeared  from 
the  conversation,  and  Mrs.  Natupski  was  also  left  out. 
Once  she  stole  a  glance,  half  tender  and  half  jealous,  at 
her  step-daughter.  Statia  did  not  know  that  Cousin  Anton 
was  already  bargaining  for  her,  and  that  Kani,  while 
less  liberal  than  the  prospective  bridegroom  wished,  was 
inclined  to  greater  generosity  than  Mrs.  Natupski  ap- 
proved of,  when  she  remembered  the  girls  in  her  own 
brood. 

The  evening  ended  with  'Statia  very  thoughtful.  She 
said  good-night  to  her  parents  almost  as  submissively  as 
if  she  had  not  started  to  make  them  over.  The  next 
morning  Cousin  Anton  appeared  in  a  sheepskin  coat  and 
enormous  boots,  looking  so  like  a  picture  of  "  typical 
Polish  peasant "  in  the  supplementary  geography  that 
'Statia  could  scarcely  refrain  from  a  real  American  gig- 
gle.    She  was  startled  when  he  came  straight  to  her, 


214  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

and,  touching  her  forehead  with  his  thick  lips,  muttered 
"  Anastasi — panienka  (young  lady)." 

"  My  name  is  called  Annie  S.  Natupski,"  she  remarked, 
in  a  somewhat  indignant  manner,  and  was  flouncing 
away,  when  her  father,  a  bit  anxiously,  called  her  into 
the  entry. 

"  Cousin  Anton — he  may  buy  Slocumb  place,"  he 
began. 

"  All  right.  I'm  willing,"  said  'Statia,  in  her  pertest 
Annie  S.  manner. 

"  If  he  get  it  cheap,"  Kani  went  on. 

"  Don't  think  he  can,"  interposed  'Statia. 

"Well,  he  think  he  get  married.  He  start  big,  like 
me  and  mamma  didn't." 

"  Did  he  bring  her  from  Poland  ?  "  'Statia  demanded. 

"Who?" 

"His  wife?" 

"  Nie.    He  get  one  here.    He  take  you." 

'Statia's  eyes  bulged.  Then,  getting  used  to  the  idea, 
she  asked,  "  What  did  you  tell  him  to  make  him  want 
me,  papa  ?  " 

"  Me  say  you  wonder  of  a  girl — dam'  fine.  Go  to 
school  and  know  how  to  live  nice.  Not  like  girl  from 
Poland." 

"  And  Cousin  Anton?  " 

"  He  say  tha's  all  right.  He  never  mind.  He  think 
you  and  he  do  fine." 

'Statia  could  wait  to  hear  no  more,  she  had  to  go  right 
out  where  Cousin  Anton  was  manfully  shoveling  dung, 
and  look  him  over  thoroughly.  To  be  sure  he  wasn't 
pretty,  but  perhaps  he  did  have  that  extension  case  full  of 
rubles.    It  would  be  fine  to  live  in  the  Slocumb  house  and 


MISS  ANNIE  S.  NATUPSKI  215 

have  one's  own  way.  To  keep  it  nice,  as  Nancy  Slocumb 
did,  with  a  copper  tea-kettle  always  shining,  ruffled  sash 
curtains  washed  and  starched  on  alternate  Mondays, 
books  and  magazines  with  articles  about  "  The  Strangers 
Within  Our  Gates  "  and  the  fashions. 

"  Boh !  "  she  cried  suddenly,  showing  all  her  teeth  to 
the  passing  geese.  "  Cousin  Anton  wouldn't  stand  for 
none  such.  Or  if  he  did  I'd  have  to  work  my  finger- 
nails off  to  make  him.  Why,  even  my  papa  takes  Ameri- 
can ways  hard,  and  he's  sixteen  years  from  Poland." 

The  deal  for  the  Slocumb  place  hung  fire — Abner  hav- 
ing no  idea  of  selling — and  Cousin  Anton  seemed  to 
think  love-making  came  after  house-hunting.  He  had 
never  observed  the  birds,  that  mate  first  and  then  assemble 
straws  for  nest-building. 

Wajeiceh  went  to  Mifflin  Grove  peddling  one  Saturday, 
and  came  home  accompanied  by  a  youth  whom  he  intro- 
duced as  Tommy  Donahue.  Despite  his  name  Tommy 
Donahue  discoursed  very  ably  in  Polish  until  he  became 
convinced  that  most  of  the  family  knew  English. 

"  Tommy  Donahue,"  laughed  'Statia,  as  she  and  the 
handsome  visitor  stood  under  a  wild  grapevine  supple- 
menting the  meal  which  'Statia,  no  longer  domineering, 
had  allowed  to  be  as  meager  as  her  father  wished. 

He  laughed  back.  "  Oh,  I  had  another  name.  Only 
no  one  could  say  it  and  I  couldn't  spell  it.  What  is  it 
your  father  called  you — Stacy  ?  " 

"  My  name,"  she  returned,  with  great  decision,  "  is 
Annie  S.  Natupski.     Miss  Annie  S.  Natupski." 

He  understood  and  nodded.  "  Good  enough,"  he  said. 
"  I  think  Miss  Annie  S.  is  a  awful  handsome  name." 

Mrs.  Bowes  and  Mrs.  Perkins,  on  their  way  to  "  pass  " 


216  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

magazines  for  the  West  Holly  book  club,  saw  the  two, 
and  Mrs.  Bowes  remarked,  "  There's  your  former  maid 
acting  anything  but  maidenly." 

"  Yes.  And  with  such  a  flash  fellow !  I  suppose  that's 
why  she  was  so  anxious  to  get  away,  to  chase  after 
beaux." 

"  They're  all  like  that,"  agreed  Mrs.  Bowes.  "  When 
they're  sixteen  they  think  they're  husband  high." 

As  a  matter  of  fact  'Statia  was  not  "  like  that "  at 
all.  When  her  father  spoke  again  on  behalf  of  Cousin 
Anton,  and  the  inconvenience  of  living  over  by  Silver 
Street,  since  Abner  Slocumb  wouldn't  sell,  the  girl  twid- 
dled her  feet  and  said,  almost  as  she  had  announced  her 
determination  to  Mrs.  Perkins,  "  I  guess  I  won't  get 
married." 

Kani,  on  the  doorstep,  was  splicing  a  chisel  handle,  as 
he  had  seen  Abner  do,  and  making  a  poor  job  of  it. 
When  his  daughter  spoke  his  hand  slipped  and  the  point 
of  the  tool  entered  the  fleshy  part  of  his  thumb.  'Statia 
ran  for  a  rag  and  began  to  wind  a  bandage  as  she  had 
been  taught  at  school. 

Tying  the  ends  and  tucking  in  the  surplus,  she  re- 
peated, "  I  guess  I  won't  get  married,  papa.  You  need 
me  to  home." 

"  Yah !  "  murmured  Kani,  docilely,  "  me  need  you  to 
home."  He  began  to  work  once  more  on  the  chisel  and 
presently  the  girl  went  away,  perhaps  to  inform  mamma 
that  one  should  not  boil  eggs  and  baby's  clothes  in  the 
same — or  any — tea-kettle.  Kani  Natupski  regarded  the 
neat  "  first-aid  "  bandage  with  an  expression  of  utter 
loathing,  then,  grunting  "  Labial! "  he  tore  it  from  his 
hand  and  thrust  it  into  his  pocket.    He  continued  work- 


MISS  ANNIE  S.  NATUPSKI  217 

ing,  paying  no  attention  to  his  wound  beyond  shaking 
off  the  blood  when  its  flow  inconvenienced  him.  So  he 
was  found  by  'Statia,  who  remonstrated  in  horror,  "  Oh, 
papa,  when  I  say  and  I  say  you  get  blood  poisoning 
so!" 

Kani  looked  up.  Exasperation,  hatred  of  interfer- 
ence, fear  for  the  loss  of  his  ego,  looked  smoldering 
from  his  grim  eyes.  'Statia  was  well  scared.  Did  papa 
feel  so  about  it?  Had  he  lived  all  his  years  in  privation 
and  filth  because  he  preferred  privation  and  filth?  Did 
he  long  to  return  to  them  even  now?  She  recalled  the 
sinister  merriment  of  that  evening  when  Cousin  Anton 
arrived.  Pulling  at  her  heart  strings  was  the  wish  to 
make  over  home  and  family,  and  in  her  burned  the  energy 
for  the  task.  Love  for  papa  and  mamma  had  led  her  to 
it.  She  could  not  enjoy  her  new-found  experiences  with- 
out asking  them  to  share  therein. 

Well,  now  it  was  love  for  papa  and  mamma  that  would 
take  her  away. 

"  Tatulo,"  she  whispered,  softly,  in  his  very  ear,  "  I 
got  for  you  a  surprise.    I  guess  I  will  get  married." 

Kani  was  delighted.  "  Good.  Good  girl !  "  he  cried, 
patting  her  little  shoe,  which  was  all  he  could  reach  of 
her.  '"  Me  go  catch  a  colt  and  four,  six  young  creatures. 
For  thee  and  Anton." 

'Statia  sighed  over  her  lost  cause.  Papa  must  have 
been  tortured  indeed  if  he  was  willing  to  do  all  this  to 
be  rid  of  her. 

"  Waiterminut,"  she  burbled  out,  "  I  guess  I'll  get 
married.  But  I  guess  I  won't  get  married  to  Cousin 
Anton." 

"Oi!    Oi!" 


218  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

"  No,  papa.  I  guess  I'll  get  married  to  Tommy  Dona- 
hue." 

Kani's  mouth  sputtered  objections,  for  which  'Statia 
was  ready.  She  knew  that  out  of  Tommy's  fortune 
"  dog's  boots  might  be  made  " — as  she  Americanized  it, 
he  smoked  more  cigarettes  than  he  could  afford,  and 
didn't  earn  day  wages  in  a  week.  But  "  Just  the  same, 
papa,  I  guess  I'll  get  married  to  him.  He  wants  what  I 
want,  papa,  and  what  you  and  mamma  don't  want.  You 
see,  papa,  me  and  him  was  both  born  in  America." 

So  Cousin  Anton  "  received  a  basket  "  (refusal)  when 
across  the  fields  went  the  two  improvident  children  one 
October  twilight,  to  set  up  housekeeping  in  a  cottage 
just  beyond  the  Bowes  place.  It  was  as  American  as 
inventive  genius  and  the  credit  house  could  make  it. 
'Statia  had  ruffled  curtains  and  the  kettle  was  agate 
ware — blue. 

Mrs.  Perkins  called  on  Mrs.  Slocumb. 

"  I've  run  in  on  her,"  said  the  latter,  "  and  she  has  it 
comfortable  and  slick.     You'd  be  surprised." 

"  The  little  she  knows  she  learned  in  my  kitchen," 
observed  the  other,  mollified. 

"  And  I'm  getting  to  wonder,"  mused  Nancy  Slocumb, 
"  if  mebbe  she  didn't  come  home-along  with  an  idee  o' 
getting  her  folks  to  live  like  folks.  She  was  forever 
stepping  over  for  me  to  learn  her  ways  o'  doing 
things." 

"  They  pig  it  worse'n  ever,  I  understand,  now  that 
relation  from  Poland's  come." 

11  Abner  tells  me,  though,  that  Natupski's  getting  fore- 
handeder  every  year.  He  and  t'other  have  put  in  a  bid 
to  chop  off  the  river  woodlot.    Abner  wanted  to  try,  but 


MISS  ANNIE  S.  NATUPSKI  219 

they  wouldn't  hear  to  any  man  that  couldn't  bond  hisself 
for  a  thousand." 

"  Yes,  it  does  beat  all  how  those  foreigners  get  along. 
But  give  me  less  money,  and  decent  living,"  commented 
Mrs.  Perkins.  "  By  the  way,  I  hear  'Statia — 'scuse  me, 
Annie  S.  Donahue — isn't  so  pizen  perticular  after  all. 
I  guess  there's  Polish  slackness  underneath  the  varnish. 
They  say  she  turns  all  the  plates  upside  down  before  she 
washes  dishes,  and  if  nothing  falls  out  sez  they're  clean." 

"  Oh,  well,"  laughed  Nancy,  "  we  mustn't  expect  too 
much.    You  know  she's  only  the  second  generation !  " 


IV 
SUCH  A  CHANCE 

No  flock  is  without  a  cosset,  and  why  should  Kani 
Natupski  think  to  produce  a  family  containing  no  failure  ? 
Yet  he  was  disgruntled  because  Stepan  grew  crooked 
where  Stanislarni  and  Wajeiceh  were  straight — weak 
as  they  were  strong. 

That  Stepan  started  handicapped  was  not  considered. 
West  Holly  women  squealed  when  it  was  told  that  the 
Natupskis  had  a  baby  whose  wrist  barely  filled  a  finger 
ring.  Kani  Natupski  took  heroic  measures.  When  snow 
fell  he  would  throw  Stepan  into  drifts  from  a  second 
story  window,  so  that  he  might  do  his  share  of  shoveling. 
You  see,  Stepan  must  dig  himself  out  or  remain  until 
the  February  thaw.  Papa  laughed  sometimes  to  see  the 
panting  boy  digging  himself  out.  Papa  supposed  he  was 
making  Stepan  tough  and  hardy.  He  was  giving  him 
inflammatory  rheumatism. 

Stepan  lived  through  his  seventh  winter,  which  was 
the  one  in  which  his  brother  Stanislarni  prepared  for  col- 
lege, a  parcel,  done  up  in  cotton  wool  and  camphorated 
oil.  When  they  undid  him  he  was  crooked.  And  then 
there  was  no  use  trying  to  make  anything  of  him.  The 
Natupski  elders  practically  abandoned  Stepan.  Believing 
him  ruined  forever,  they  let  the  district  school  and  the 
neighbors  do  their  worst. 

Stepan  was  never  taken   anywhere.      He  knew   his 


SUCH  A  CHANCE  221 

father's  farm,  Abner  Slocumb's  home  lot,  and  the  sandy 
road  to  the  schoolhouse.  It  is  to  be  feared  he  had  a  small 
mind.  When  the  flag  broke  out  on  the  tall  staff  before 
District  Seven  his  heart  throbbed  with  painful  delight. 

Stepan  would  probably  have  liked  to  be  a  flag,  so 
high  up,  so  straight. 

It  was  the  flags  in  the  picture  that  held  him  hours  in 
front  of  the  old  corn-barn,  which  Kani  Natupski  had 
allowed  circus  men  to  cover  with  posters  the  May  after 
'Statia's  marriage.  The  corn-barn  attracted  children 
from  all  about. 

Stepan  had  eyes  for  only  the  great  cages  bearing  on 
the  corner  flags — flags  of  all  kinds.  They  were  pictured 
in  the  highest  of  high  winds  and  as  large  as  was  pos- 
sible if  anything  else  was  to  be  visible  in  the  street  below. 

Stepan  believed  it  all  because  he  had  never  been  out 
in  the  world  and  knew  nothing  of  the  world's  disappoint- 
ments. He  was  familiar  only  with  West  Holly,  which 
was  never  disappointing.  The  schoolhouse  flag  looked 
as  one  would  have  it,  and  was  as  large  as  it  was. 

Besides  money  to  pay  for  the  use  of  the  corn-barn,  the 
circus  man  had  left  passes.  So  the  Natupskis  would  go 
to  their  first  circus.  That  is,  papa  would  go;  and  a  good 
many  of  the  children.  Little  else  but  circus  was  talked 
in  West  Holly.  Abner  Slocumb  was  going  in  memory 
of  the  days  when  he  tried  to  crawl  under  the  tent. 
Blanchard  Bowes  was  going  because  he  expected  com- 
pany from  Boston.    Stepan,  of  course,  would  not  go. 

The  great  day  was  Saturday,  but  Miss  Olive  Greene 
intended  to  let  school  out  anyway.  She  had  to  go  because 
if  she  didn't  her  beau  would  go  with  another  girl. 

Confusion  reigns  in  most  large  families  when  a  merry- 


222  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

making  impends,  and  confusion  reigned  in  the  Natupski 
home,  which  was  now  nearly  redeemed  from  the  unusual 
outburst  of  chairs,  tables,  rugs,  and  sash  curtains  for 
which  'Statia  had  been  responsible  the  previous  summer. 
It  was  not  a  delightful  confusion.  The  Natupskis  never 
had  enough  of  anything  to  go  around,  and  Wajeiceh 
would  get  mad  because  Marinka  had  taken  his  fancy 
arm-garters  for  quite  another  purpose. 

"  You  shut  up,  whole  caboodle  of  you,"  bawled  Kani. 
"  Les'  me  lick  you  to  stay  to  home,  ev'ry  dam'  one. 
Wajeiceh  can  come  early  away  and  milk.  Maybe  me  stay 
in  and  get  drunk.  Not  often  your  papa  enjoys  him- 
self." 

But  Wajeiceh  was  already  gone,  cross  lots.  So  Kani 
stuck  his  teeth  together  and  tried  authority  with  his 
daughters. 

"  Some  one  is  got  to  leave  early,"  he  announced. 
"  Pigs  there  is,  remember.  And  old  setting  turkey  may 
hatch.    Yes,  she  will  hatch.     One  is  got  to  leave  early." 

"  Poh  for  turkey,"  snorted  Marinka,  prospective 
pleasure  having  gone  to  her  head.  "  Miss  Turkey  knows 
how  to  tend  her  young  ones,  I  guess.  How'd  turkeys  do 
'fore  they  belonged  to  folks?  " 

Then  she  climbed  over  the  wheel,  settled  the  pick  of  the 
female  headgear  on  her  frizzes,  and  said,  "  Stepan  can 
feed  'em,  for  once." 

Of  course  Stepan  had  wanted  to  go  to  the  circus.  It 
had  seemed  as  if  he  must  go,  because  of  the  flags.  He 
could  shut  his  eyes  and  see  the  great  tent  and  all  the 
little  ones,  like  mushrooms  circled  round  a  toadstool  in 
Slocumb's  pasture  after  a  rain.  To  the  music  of  some- 
thing called  a  band  lovely  ladies  rode  an  incredible  num- 


SUCH  A  CHANCE  223 

ber  of  horses,  kissing  hands.  Above  it  all,  flags.  From 
each  tent  a  flag,  and  others  strung  on  lines  from  peak  to 
peak  of  the  largest. 

He  had  made  a  very  truthful  circus,  this  Stepan  who 
never  saw  one.  He  was  used  to  finding  happiness  in 
dreams,  but  in  spite  of  this  dream  of  flags,  the  day  seemed 
flat  after  his  father,  brothers,  and  sisters  had  gone.  He 
listened  to  the  waning  sounds  of  chatter. 

"  Oh,  'Rinka,  they  say  the  ringmaster  's  so  handsome. 
A  girl  at  Holly  Centre  went  to  Lansing  last  year  and 
seen  him.  When  he  cracks  his  whip  it  goes  all  through 
you  like  a  shiver.  Say,  papa,  mayn't  I  have  ten  cents 
for  some  Woolworth  earrings?" 

The  last  sound  was  Yadna's  piping  voice,  wanting  to 
know,  "  Say,  'Rinka,  do  the  lady  in  pink  not  wear  no 
dress  but  wings  ?  And  is  hoopla  Polish,  papa  ?  It  comes 
out  her  mouth  in  the  picture,  hoopla  just  like  that.  Well, 
if  it  ain't  Polish,  whose  talk  is  it?  " 

What  a  come-down  to  realize  one  was  left  in  West 
Holly,  where  it  was  so  still  the  cows  made  a  big  noise 
eating  in  the  hill  pasture. 

Stepan  felt  this  was  not  a  disappointment  for  one  day. 
It  was  his  life  in  all  the  years  to  come.  He  would  never 
go  to  the  circus.  Anger  rose  and  ruled  him  for  the  first 
time.  He  rolled  in  the  dirt  and  bit  the  turf,  with  howls. 
He  had  seen  Marinka  do  this  when  papa  refused  her  a 
peek-a-boo  waist.  He  had  thought  it  foolish  in  a  big 
girl,  but  now  he  knew  how  she  had  felt. 

By  and  by  he  came  back  to  himself,  a  sad  little  boy. 
His  eyes  smarted,  his  mouth  was  filled  with  mud.  Both 
legs  ached  and  with  every  sob  he  shivered.  Perhaps  he 
was  going  to  die.    He  hoped  so.    He  would  lie  down  and 


224  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

die  and  when  papa  and  the  girls  came  home  they  would 
be  sorry.  They  would  say,  "  Stepan,  he  died  because  we 
didn't  take  him  to  the  circus.    Poor  Stepan ! " 

As  one  cannot  lie  in  the  dirt  all  day,  even  though  one 
is  about  to  die,  Stepan  got  up  and  went  into  the  house. 
It  would  be  dull  there,  but  he  had  to  go  somewhere.  Only 
mamma  would  be  at  home,  and  the  baby.  Mamma  was 
always  at  home,  and  there  was  usually  a  baby. 

Right  where  the  gate  would  have  been  only  for  Natup- 
ski  thrift  using  the  gate  for  firewood  seven  years  before 
Stepan  was  born,  he  found  a  ticket  for  the  circus.  It 
stuck  up  in  the  wheel-track  as  if  saying  "  Come,  make 
the  most  of  me."  Some  of  the  circus  party  had  let  it 
fall.  He  had  only  to  get  to  Mifflin  Grove  and  this  would 
admit  him  to  the  sights  and  wonders.  He  needn't  die 
now.    He  need  only  get  to  Mifflin  Grove. 

Over  in  Abner  Slocumb's  kitchen  discussion  ran  high. 
Nancy  declared  once  and  for  all  she  would  not  be  caught 
dead  going  to  the  circus.  She  declared  it  a  great  many 
times.  "  Abner  Slocumb,"  she  remarked,  "  I  would  be  a 
fool.  I'd  spend  fifty  cents  good  money,  with  the  interest 
due  and  all,  going  to  a  wicked  performance  that  the 
Methodist  Church  never  countenanced.  Offers  free 
tickets  to  clergymen !  Don't  tell  me.  Of  course  it  offers 
free  tickets  to  clergymen  because  no  clergymen  ever  take 
em. 

"  Aw,  don't  make  such  a  clack,"  said  Abner,  obnox- 
iously shaving  himself  a  day  ahead.  "  Ain't  nothing  im- 
moral in  seeing  the  elephant  h'isting  a  wisp  o'  straw  in 
his  trunk  and  putting  it  on  his  back,  nor  in  watching  the 
great  polar  bear  everlastingly  walk  round  the  chunk  of 
ice  in  his  cage.    Educational  and  improving,  Nance.    So 


SUCH  A  CHANCE  225 

it  says  on  Natupski's  barn.    G'long  over  and  read  it  for 
yourself." 

"  I  will  not,"  she  replied,  nipping  in  her  lips,  "  and  you 
men  folks  might  been  better  employed  than  hanging 
round  there.  Great  polar  bear  indeed !  It's  my  opinion 
all  you  men  considered  was  that  scandalous  young  woman 
in  short  skirts  a-straddle  of  eight  horses  in  full  gallop. 
Not  that  you  can  make  me  believe  there's  any  such 
thing." 

'  "  Nance,"  whispered  Abner,  advancing  razor  in  hand 
and  making  motions  that  must  have  looked  murderous 
to  the  robin  in  the  apple  tree  by  the  north  window, 
"  there's  two  little  fellers  has  atted  me  to  go  to  the  circus. 
Guess  who  they  be?" 

"  Can't,"  she  returned. 

"  Two  little  fellers,"  Abner  went  on,  sweeping  the 
lather  from  his  cheeks  with  a  rasp  as  of  saw-filing,  and 
wiping  his  razor  on  a  square  of  newspaper.  "  One's  the 
one  I  used  to  be,  who  never  had  fifty  cents  to  call  his 
own.  T'other's  the  one  we  might  have  had.  We'd  both 
have  gone  and  tooken  him.  You'd  not  have  stood  out, 
Nance,  when  'twas  our  little  chap  wanted  to  see  the 
clown  and  the  wonderful  bearded  lady  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Nancy,  softened  to  that  extent  that  she 
cut  a  doughnut  man  with  her  ready  knife  instead  of 
sticking  to  the  five-fingered  variety,  "  I  s'pose  I  wouldn't. 
But  you  know  well  enough,  Abner,  he  never  was  nor 
wanted.  But  if  'twas  any  young  one  you  was  a-going 
to  pleasure  I  wouldn't  say  a  word.  It's  only  that  it  looks 
so  foolish  for  you,  a  gre't  grown  man,  to  be  going.  Just 
as  if  I  was  taking  to  doll  babies." 

"  Any  young  one,"  said  Abner,  his  eye  ranging  the 


226  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

landscape.  "  Any  young  one  a-tall.  Well,  here  goes. 
There's  a  Natupski  young  one  left  to  home." 

In  this  way  there  fell  at  Stepan's  feet  a  marvelous 
chance. 

While  Mr.  Slocumb  harnessed,  Stepan  went  into  the 
house,  biting  his  fingers  to  be  sure  he  did  not  dream 
asleep.  He  would  see  the  animals  and  the  flying  people 
on  little  swings.    He  would  see  the  flags. 

He  climbed  to  the  room  where  his  mother  lay  in  bed 
with  the  new  baby.  Well,  it  was  not  a  very  new  baby, 
being  all  of  a  week  old,  and  named  Zinzic,  but  mamma 
never  got  out  of  bed  now  inside  of  ten  days. 

"  Such  a  chance,  mamma,"  said  Stepan.  "  You  think 
I  will  stay  to  home,  and  papa  thinks  I  will  stay  to  home. 
But  I  won't.     Such  a  chance." 

Mrs.  Natupski  turned  toward  Stepan.  Perhaps  be- 
cause there  was  none  other  to  look  at — the  sleeping  baby 
didn't  count — she  saw  Stepan  as  if  she  had  never  seen 
him  before,  learned  the  wistful  beauty  of  his  eyes,  the 
crisp  curling  of  his  abundant  hair,  the  healthful  glow 
of  his  face.  She  hadn't  thought  of  it  in  the  past  years, 
but  she  loved  Stepan. 

"  Dearest  one,"  she  murmured  in  her  native  language, 
and  drawing  him  near  gave  him  a  long  kiss. 

From  next  door  came  the  sound  of  Abner  Slocumb 
harnessing,  which  meant  abrupt  "  stand  overs  "  and  drop- 
pings of  thills  at  vexatious  periods. 

"  Such  a  chance,"  whispered  Stepan,  his  voice  muf- 
fled by  the  fuzzy  neck  ruffle  of  mamma's  nightgown,  in 
which  his  lips  were  buried.     "  Such  a  chance." 

Ten  minutes  later  Abner  Slocumb  stepped  carefully 
over  the  rotten  boards  of  the  Natupski  piazza,  called 


SUCH  A  CHANCE  227 

aloud  several  times,  and  knocked  with  his  whip  stock, 
with  no  response.  There  stood  the  door,  wide  open; 
there  walked  the  hens,  in  and  out;  there  sat  the  cat  on 
the  table,  cleaning  her  whiskers ;  it  was  just  as  it  always 
was;  but  for  the  first  time  in  seventeen  years  nothing 
human  was  in  sight. 

"  Don't  look  nat'ral,"  he  reported  to  Nancy,  "  no  man 
beating  nobody,  no  young  ones  bawling.  'Rinka  ain't 
fussing  up  a  fancy  bunnet.  I  don't  know  the  place. 
Keep  an  eye  on  it,  Nance.  I'll  go  along.  Probably  I'll 
pick  up  the  boy  down  the  road  a  piece." 

The  buggy  spun  away  under  the  nooning  sun,  but  no 
boy  was  picked  up.  Abner  forgot  his  disappointment 
when  he  got  to  Mifflin  Grove,  indulged  himself  in  a  real 
good  oyster  stew — twenty  cents  a  bowl,  our  most  ex- 
pensive dish — and  secured  a  place  under  the  big  top  full 
early.  After  all,  it  was  the  boy's  loss,  not  hisn.  Just 
then  a  chap  came  along  with  a  trick  nose  that  he  could 
make  four  feet  long  without  winking,  and  nothing  was 
worth  thinking  of  but  laughter. 

The  Natupskis  were  there  in  a  row,  a  trifle  less  happy 
than  Abner  Slocumb,  because  the  circus  makes  its 
strongest  appeal  to  the  Yankee  character.  Kani  looked 
darkly  down  the  line.  Only  for  its  being  a  holiday  he 
should  not  think  he  was  having  such  a  fine  time.  He 
guessed  he  would  go  and  get  drunk  when  it  was  over. 
His  eyes  went  again  down  the  line,  which  began  with 
sleepy  Yan,  leaning  against  him,  and  ended  with  the 
smartly  dressed  'Statia  and  her  husband,  Tommy 
Donahue.  All  his,  all  acquired  since  he  came  to  America, 
alone  and  poor.  He  ought  to  be  having  a  fine  time.  Per- 
haps he  would  have  had  one  could  Marinki  have  left  her 


228  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

bed  and  come  along.  Only  that  would  have  left  Stepan 
alone. 

But  why  leave  Stepan  ? 

"  Say,  'Statia,"  he  called,  interrupting  a  good  joke 
of  the  head  clown,  to  disgust  of  surrounding  mobs, 
11  Stepan  would  have  liked  it  here." 

"  True  for  you,  papa,"  'Statia  shrilled,  for  she  was 
quick  and  had  caught  the  joke,  so  to  the  dickens  with 
all  slowpokes  in  the  back  seats.  "  Me  and  Tommy  said 
so  all  along,  didn't  we,  Tommy  ?  Stepan  gets  a  big  boy 
now  and  deserves  some  fun.  Miss  Greene  tells  me  he 
does  splendid  in  school.  Likely  he  makes  a  somebody, 
if  he  is  crooked." 

After  the  performance  the  Natupski  family  met  Abner 
Slocumb  in  front  of  the  "  September  Morn  "  ballyhoo. 
Abner  was  trying  to  muster  courage  to  go  in  and  be 
fooled ;  the  Natupskis  were  doing  all  the  looking  possible 
for  nothing. 

"  Hello,"  said  Abner.  "  When  you  folks  laying  out  to 
go  home  ?  I  d'know  but  it's  all  right,  and  I  d'know  as 
'tis  all  right,  but  I  was  over  there  this  forenoon  and 
couldn't  raise  hide  nor  hair  o'  nobody.  Thought  I'd 
fetch  the  little  lame  feller  to  the  doings,  but  he  never 
answered,  though  I  hollered  my  fool  head  off." 

A  moment's  pause  and  not  a  Natupski  was  in  sight. 
The  entire  family  had  been  thrust  on  to  an  already  over- 
loaded trolley  car  bound  for  Holly. 

"  By  chowder,"  soliloquized  Abner,  "  he  does  think 
they  is  something  wrong,"  and  added  himself  to  the 
human  freight.  At  Holly,  teams  were  redeemed  from 
the  public  rack,  and  the  route  taken  up  around  the  moun- 
tain.   Natupski  drove  as  if  animated  by  seven  devils  and 


SUCH  A  CHANCE  229 

his  evident  fright  spread  to  Abner  Slocumb.  Natupski 
reached  home  first  in  spite  of  his  heavy  wagonload. 
There  was  a  dead  silence  about  the  place.  An  old  hen 
was  looking  out  of  the  garret  window.  That  was  pretty 
bold  for  a  hen,  even  at  Natupski 's.  The  fowls  seldom 
went  upstairs  now.  The  girls  didn't  seem  to  like  'em 
around  the  bedrooms. 

Kani  ran  hither  and  thither,  in  response  to  chaotic 
ideas  of  danger.  Had  Stepan  fallen  down  the  holes  in 
the  upper  barn,  where  the  hay  came  through  to  the  man- 
gers ?  Or  was  it  the  savage  bull  in  the  pasture  that  had 
tossed  him?  Go,  Wajeiceh,  quick,  and  holler  down  the 
well.  Sometimes  little  boys  fall  down  wells.  The  bucket 
goes  too  fast,  and  the  chain  drags  them  in.  The  girls 
thought  of  other  dangerous  places  and  examined  the 
rickety  cellar  stairs,  the  ell  room  with  the  missing  floor 
boards,  the  teetery  barnyard  wharfing. 

"  Stepan,"  every  one  was  calling.  u  Oi,  Stepan. 
Come  quick.  If  you  is  a-hiding  come  out  quick.  See 
what  we  got  for  you.  Lots  of  pretty  things.  Oi, 
Stepan." 

Never  before  had  there  been  a  home-coming  when  the 
little  crooked  boy,  gentlest  of  all  the  flock,  was  not  smil- 
ing shyly  at  the  door  or  window,  expecting  nothing  but  a 
story  of  adventures  in  which  he  had  not  shared.  Simul- 
taneously, a  sense  of  their  own  selfishness  came  over  the 
family.  It  was  more  than  the  gentle  regret  that  had  half 
spoiled  the  circus,  though  perhaps  it  was  rooted  in  that. 
The  girls  began  to  cry.  They  were  tired,  hot,  nervous. 
Worry  overbalanced  dignity,  even  'Statia  and  'Rinka 
bawled  like  peevish  babies. 

"  You  shut  up,"  snarled  Kani.    "  Shut  up  or  me  lick 


230  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

every  one  together.  What  good  is  it  me  look  every  place 
while  you  make  such  a  noise?  Go  find  some  place  to 
look  in." 

"We've  looked  every  place.  He  ain't  nowhere," 
wailed  'Rinka. 

Kani  threw  himself  on  the  step  in  stony  despair.  He 
began  to  regret  every  failure  in  loving  duty  to  the  lost 
child.  There  were  a  great  many.  It  was  wrong  not  to 
have  taken  him  to  the  circus.  He  could  see  that  now. 
And  last  winter  he  should  have  had  a  warm  blanket  to 
sleep  under,  instead  of  sacking  and  bits  of  old  carpet. 
Shoes,  too — it  had  not  been  right  to  send  him  the  long 
frosty  walk  to  school  in  October  without  shoes.  And 
the  circus.  Of  course  he  should  have  gone  to  the 
circus. 

Wajeiceh  was  to  blame !  Kani  decided  Wajeiceh  was 
to  blame,  because  if  he  could  not  blame  and  lick  some- 
body he  should  go  mad.  Wajeiceh  should  have  said, 
"  Tatulo,  take  Stepan."  What  if  he  did  get  beaten  for 
not  minding  his  own  business  ?  If  the  little  boy  had  been 
at  the  circus  he  would  not  have  been  lost.  And  now  it 
grew  dark  and  he  could  not  be  found.  Nor  even  looked 
for,  unless  there  was  oil  in  the  lantern,  and  there  never 
was  now  'Statia  was  married.  Lazy  girls,  you  go  fill 
the  lantern  and  find  your  brother.  Find  for  me  my  little 
Stepan.  He  was  dearer  than  any  of  you.  He  never 
asked  for  a  nickel.  He  never  went  no  place  where  he 
could  spend  a  nickel.  He  never  went  to  the  circus. 
Would  we  had  gone  alone,  just  me  and  him,  and  left  you 
home,  ungrateful  wretches. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Slocumb  were,  in  the  meanwhile,  acting 
the  part  of  good  neighbors,  and  investigating  their  own 


SUCH  A  CHANCE  231 

premises  thoroughly,  continuing  the  search  after  Kani 
Natupski  gave  up  to  sit  down  and  wail.  Nancy,  emerg- 
ing from  a  third  going  over  the  hog  barn  recesses,  was 
about  to  tell  Abner  she'd  "  raked  every  hideaway  place 
with  a  fine-tooth  comb,"  when  she  thought  she  saw  two 
dusky  forms  stealing  under  the  garden  fence.  As  she 
looked  they  were  lost  in  the  raspberry  canes.  It  gave  her 
such  a  turn  she  had  to  go  into  the  house  and  take  a  swal- 
low of  the  strong  green  tea  which  had  been  brewing  an 
hour  on  the  back  of  the  stove. 

Mrs.  Slocumb's  eyes  had  not  deceived  her.  The  larger 
of  the  two  sneaked  up  the  Natupski  back  stairs,  the  little 
crooked  one  came  softly  around  the  house  and  said  to 
his  bewildered  father,  "Was  you  calling  to  me,  papa? 
Did  you  want  me  for  anything?  " 

"  Stepan !  Little  Stepan !  "  cried  Kani  Natupski,  and 
grabbed  the  child,  while  his  bony  figure  was  convulsed 
with  sobs.  "  Yes,  me  wants  you  for  something.  Me 
wants  you — wants  you  to  take  to  the  circus  tonight." 

Stepan  slipped  to  his  feet  and  put  one  hand  on  his 
father's  cheek,  while  he  answered,  "  Oh,  but  I  wouldn't 
want  to  go.  Honest,  I  wouldn't  care  to  go.  It's  after 
sundown,  so  I  wouldn't  care." 

Kani  looked  aghast  for  a  moment,  and  then  shook  his 
head  sadly.  He  thought  the  boy  was  afraid  of  the  dark- 
ness, having  never  been  away  in  the  night.  To  think  that 
he  had  never  been  shown  what  the  street  lights  made  of 
Mifflin  Grove! 

Marinka  and  the  rest  crowded  up  with  gifts.  It  had 
been  a  wonderful  day  and  no  one  had  forgotten  Stepan 
at  all. 

But  the  most  wonderful  part  could  be  told  only  by 


232  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

secret  glances  between  mamma's  eyes  and  his.  Here- 
after he  and  his  mother  would  have  things  to  tell  each 
other.  Yet  to  think  how  near  he  had  been,  that  forenoon, 
to  losing  the  chance — such  a  chance ! 

Only  for  a  thought  it  would  have  been  lost.  The 
thought  came  while  he  lay  against  mamma's  shoulder, 
as  she  said  **  Dearest  one."  It  was  the  thought  that 
mamma  would  be  alone.  And  she  would  be  more  un- 
happy than  he  had  been,  because  he  had  had  mamma, 
but  she  would  not  have  Stepan.  And  if  he  had  never 
seen  the  circus,  she  had  never  seen  anything  but  the  barn 
across  the  road. 

Stepan  did  not  consider  that  she  had  come  from 
Poland  in  the  long  ago. 

Mamma  had  never  seen  the  school  flag. 

Why  should  not  mamma  see  the  school  flag? 

"  Oh,  mamma,"  he  cried,  in  her  own  tongue,  "  get  up 
and  come  with  me.  I  will  show  you  something  beauti- 
ful.   Such  a  chance !  " 

Mrs.  Natupski  bared  all  her  teeth  and  a  few  places 
where  teeth  should  have  been.  "  You  never  tell,"  she 
commanded,  "  and  I  will  get  up.     Such  a  chance !  " 

As  on  previous  occasions  of  voluntary  detention,  Mrs. 
Natupski  was  weary  of  pretending  to  be  a  fine  lady  and 
resting  her  feet. 

She  wrapped  herself  in  an  old  waterproof  of  'Statia's 
and  into  the  sweet  spring  noon  they  stole — she  and 
Stepan.  The  little  baby  lay  on  her  arm.  He  would  be 
no  trouble.  Little  Natupski  babies  never  were.  Abner 
Slocumb  was  approaching  the  front  of  the  house,  out 
of  the  back  the  woman  and  the  boy  slipped,  to  patter 
over  the  crisp  new  grass,  past  the  trees  where  fluffs  of 


SUCH  A  CHANCE  233 

yellow  feathers  were  fussing  with  tags  of  string  and 
horse  hair.    First  she  must  look  at  the  corn  barn. 

"  See,"  said  Stepan,  pointing  to  this  flag  and  that,  and 
"  See,"  he  cried  in  a  louder  tone,  when  his  finger  reached 
the  great  one  pictured  at  the  apex  of  the  tent. 

Mamma  pointed  out  a  tiny  one,  with  such  a  look  one 
would  think  she  was  eating  something  that  didn't  taste 
good.  "  Russ !  "  she  said,  way  up  in  Tier  nose.  Stepan 
understood.  That  flag  had  kept  Poland  from  being  free, 
so  papa  and  mamma  had  been  obliged  to  come  to  America. 
He  was  glad  they  had  come  to  America,  but  he  was 
quite  willing  to  insult  the  Russian  flag.  So  he  con- 
demned it. 

"  Ain't  straight,"  he  said  of  the  imperial  eagle.  Then, 
putting  a  hand  tenderly  on  the  big  flag  of  all,  he  looked  at 
mamma. 

"  Straight ! "  she  said  approvingly  of  the  thirteen 
stripes,  and  Stepan  glowed.  Mamma  knew  of  what  he 
was  always  thinking.  She  had  never  been  told,  but  she 
knew. 

Her  feet  itching,  they  went  on  so  quietly  that  nothing 
in  the  hedgerow  was  disturbed.  Violets  kept  peeping  at 
the  sun,  robins  continued  flinging  trills  into  the  air,  and 
what  little  snakes  had  ventured  forth  to  bask  kept  on 
basking.  Usually  Mrs.  Natupski  was  death  on  snakes, 
but  this  was  not  an  ordinary  day. 

At  the  schoolhouse  she  was  glad  to  rest  and  put  the 
baby  to  bed  in  the  grass.  It  would  have  killed  any 
American  baby,  of  course,  to  sleep  on  the  ground  in  May 
after  a  shower,  but  it  would  not  injure  Zinzic  Natupski. 

Now  came  the  triumphant  moment  Stepan  was  to  show 
the  flag.    He  went  to  the  locker  which  had  been  arranged 


234  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

on  the  outside  of  the  building,  so  that  the  firstcomer 
might  hoist  it  on  school-days  without  waiting  for  the 
schoolhouse  to  be  unlocked.  Trembling  with  pleasure 
Stepan  slipped  the  flag  on  the  rope  and  began  to  pull. 
It  was  hard  work  and  his  hands  were  cut,  but  he  would 
not  mind  if  only  mamma  would  look.  She  leaned  against 
the  bank  with  her  eyes  shut.  Had  she  gone  to  sleep  ?  He 
remembered  the  sad  evening  when  she  went  to  sleep 
while  Yadna  was  showing  how  to  weave  paper  mats 
kindergarten  way.  Yadna  had  cried  and  said  she  would 
never,  never  again  try  to  treat  mamma  as  other  girls 
treated  their  mammas.  But  that  had  been  in  the  house, 
in  winter,  by  the  hot  stove,  after  mamma  had  shoveled 
all  day. 

w  See,  mamma,  it  floats  out,"  he  cried. 

To  his  great  joy  she  opened  her  bead-like  eyes,  and 
began  making  her  head  go  from  side  to  side,  as  the  flag 
fluttered,  while  she  chanted,  "  Straight,  straight, 
straight,"  to  a  sort  of  tune. 

"  Oh,  mamma,  sing,"  he  begged,  and  she  sang,  trolling 
out  something  she  and  Kani  had  used  to  hum  when  they 
went  to  the  woods  before  America  was  even  a  dream. 

It  was  a  pretty  song,  with  flowers  in  it.  She  knew 
another,  with  wolves,  but  she  did  not  sing  that.  She  did 
not  believe  Stepan  would  like  it.  Besides,  there  were  no 
wolves  in  America. 

Although  there  was  nothing  to  eat  but  ends  of  bleached 
grass  blades,  they  were  obliged  to  stay  to  salute  the  flag 
at  sunset.    Stepan  had  set  his  heart  on  that. 

Luckily  the  sun  disappeared  early  from  West  Holly, 
on  account  of  the  mountain,  so  Stepan's  ceremony  was 
over  long  before  official  sundown.    Mrs.  Natupski  stood 


SUCH  A  CHANCE  235 

and  raised  her  hand  as  he  told  her — even  the  baby's 
hand  was  held  up.  To  Stepan  belonged  the  thrilling  ex- 
perience of  bringing  down  the  flag,  and  feeling  himself 
for  a  moment  enveloped  in  its  folds. 

Then  Mrs.  Natupski  peered  through  the  windows  at 
the  place  where  her  children  were  being  made  into 
Americans,  and  felt  ready  to  go  home  for  another  ten 
years. 

There  is  probably  nothing  pleasanter  than  to  go  home- 
along  in  the  gloaming  when  the  air  is  perfumery  and  a 
gentle  fatigue  tells  of  the  garnering  of  pretty  memories. 
So  Mrs.  Natupski  and  Stepan  went  home  on  the  great 
circus  day. 

With  all  the  chores  impending  the  family  was  galvan- 
ized into  action  just  after  Kani  put  his  son  down,  half 
suffocated  with  the  hugging  that  alone  seemed  adequate 
expression  of  a  great  relief.  In  ten  seconds  milk  pails 
clashed,  cows  rattled  into  stanchions,  and  much  pro- 
fanity, English  and  Polish,  was  heard  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  pig-pen. 

Stepan  meant  to  help  all  he  could,  in  small  ways,  and 
the  ways  were  not  always  so  small  because,  like  most 
crooked  boys,  he  was  handy-fingered.  When  he  col- 
lided with  one  of  the  others  he  would  put  a  shy  question 
about  the  circus.  Was  it  as  nice  as  the  pictures  on  the 
corn-barn  ? 

Kazia  thought  the  ringmaster  was  nicer,  indeed,  quite 
as  handsome  as  the  Holly  Depot  station-agent,  but  not 
so  satisfactory.  He  was  grand  and  awful,  but  one 
could  never  know  him,  and  the  station-agent  lifted  his 
cap  whenever  he  saw  her,  just  as  if  she  was  a  grown 
lady. 


236  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

To  Yadna  Stepan  ventured  a  question  about  flags. 
Did  she  see  any? 

"  Sure,"  said  Yadna.  "  They  was  sugary  ones.  A 
ole  lady  in  a  sunbunnet  sold  'em  fi'  cents  a  bag.  Only 
I  didn't  have  no  fi'  cents." 

Stepan  joined  Novia  in  laughing  at  the  little  girl, 
and  then  Wajeiceh  came  in  with  a  dish  of  milk  froth 
for  the  cat  and  emptied  his  pocket  of  a  pungent  hand- 
ful of  those  very  sweeties.  "  You  missed  it,  kid,"  he 
said.  "  You  ought  to  have  called  papa's  bluff  and  made 
him  take  you  this  evening.  Another  year — another 
year's  a  long  while.  And  the  acrobats  were  sure  great. 
A  big  fellow  took  a  little  fellow  and  threw  him  right 
over  the  heads  of  everybody.  He'd  have  been  smashed 
to  jelly  only  for  the  net." 

Stepan,  who  had  never  forgotten  being  flung  from  the 
upper  window  into  the  snow,  was  rather  glad  he  would 
not  see  that.  He  had  the  day  with  mamma  to  remember; 
it  was  enough  to  find  one  open  heart.  Mamma  might 
scold  by  and  by,  and  even  beat  him,  because  she  would 
be  mamma,  but  she  had  seen  the  flag,  and  she  had  known 
why  he  loved  it.  When  he  had  said  nothing,  she  had 
said   "Straight." 

"  Papa,"  said  Yadna,  "  circus  comes  every  year,  don't 
it?" 

"  Yah.    Nex'  time  you  stay  all  home.    Stepan  goes." 

Well,  perhaps.  But  not  in  the  night.  Stepan  had  said 
not  in  the  night,  and  papa  had  felt  glad  because  he  was 
tired,  and  there  were  all  the  barn  cattle  to  feed.  Papa 
did  not  know  Stepan  would  not  go  in  the  night  because, 
of  course,  at  sunset  all  the  flags  were  hauled  down! 


V 
MODEST   SHOP   WINDOWS 

"  Now  we've  got  'em,"  said  Arthur  Slocumb,  "  now 
we've  frothed  and  foamed  to  get  'em,  I  wonder  what 
good  they  are  to  us  ?  " 

He  referred  to  the  documents  showing  that  Arthur 
Slocumb  and  Stanislarni  Natupski  had  obtained  degrees 
at  Harvard. 

Stanislarni,  before  answering  Arthur's  question,  re- 
moved a  flaring  pipe  from  his  mouth  in  order  to  grin. 

"  Frothed  and  foamed  in  truth,"  he  observed.  **  Get- 
ting that  has  knocked  my  one  last  illusion  on  the  head. 
I  found  most  things  were  not  what  I  expected  them  to 
be,  but  I  did  cling  to  the  idea  that  a  dignitary  would 
so  far  put  himself  out  as  to  personally  hand  me  a  sheep- 
skin. The  great  day's  over.  We  chased  round  in  the  rear 
of  processions  and  didn't  get  a  smell  of  the  alumni.  After 
I've  lost  you  a  few  dozen  times  I  think  I'll  go  away  where 
I  can  be  quiet,  when  I  see  you  hot-footing  from  some- 
where and  you  say  '  Got  your  sheepskin  ?  '  And  of  course 
I  say " 

"  Of  course  you  say  '  Search  me.'  " 

"  Exactly.  And  you  tell  me  to  go  over  there,  into  the 
basement,  and  a  fellow'll  give  me  it.  And  I  do.  And 
he  does.    And  it  isn't  a  sheepskin !    In  a  basement !  " 

"  Now  we've  got  'em,"  said  Arthur,  "  I  wonder  what 

good " 

237 


238  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

"  Shut  up !  You  said  it  once.  It'll  do  you  good  all 
right  all  right,  because  two  or  three  years  from  now  you 
may  be  diving  into  another  basement  and  getting  another. 
That  is,  if  you  stick  to  law  school.  Two  or  three  years 
from  now.  What'll  I  be  at  two  or  three  years  from 
now?  " 

"  Something  worth  while,  wherever  you  are,"  answered 
Arthur,  stoutly.  "  No  fellow  could  put  up  the  fight 
you  have  to  make  good,  and  make  good,  without  being 
the  big  noise  afterward." 

"  Ah,"  observed  Stanislarni,  pushing  a  pound  of  fist 
through  his  hair.  "  There,  my  dear  Arthur,  you  touch 
me  on  the  raw.  If  there's  one  thing  above  all  others  I'm 
anxious  not  to  be,  it's  the  big  noise.  That  job  is  griev- 
ously over-filled  by  too  many  Americans  whose  birth,  like 
mine,  keeps  'em  from  running  for  president  on  the  ticket 
of  Personal  Exploitation.  We  write  of  our  childhood, 
and  when  we  describe  our  birthplace  as  furnished  entirely 
with  a  bread  bin  and  religious  symbols,  and  tell  how  we 
slept  in  the  bin  on  the  grub,  some  nice  hygienic  woman's 
club  writes  us  a  letter  and  offers  to  listen  if  we  will  de- 
liver it  a  lecture.  So  we  stand  up  and  give  our  opinion 
of  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  and  wonder  audibly 
how  it  is  that  it's  waited  all  these  years  for  us  to  ap- 
preciate it,  implying  that  no  one  else  has  ever  noticed  it 
at  all.  Then  we're  interviewed,  and  come  out  under  a 
caption  calling  attention  to  '  Debt  America  Owes  Aliens.' 
Debt!    Poppycock!" 

"  And  so,"  commented  Arthur,  taking  this  so  apathet- 
ically that  one  imagines  he  had  heard  it  before,  "  you 
don't  want  to  be  a  big  noise  ?  " 

"  I  want,"  said  Stanislarni,  "  to  be  an  ordinary  citizen, 


MODEST  SHOP  WINDOWS  239 

living  quietly,  decently,  and  without  being  pointed  at  as  a 
curiosity  in  the  town  of  Holly." 

"  Get  out !  "  bleated  Arthur,  now  really  startled.  "  You 
aren't  going  into  the  country?  Why  not  accept  that 
business  offer  and  lose  yourself  in  New  York?  " 

"  Begin  at  the  ground  up  and  learn  the  ins  and  outs 
from  the  top  down,"  Stanislarni  read  from  a  good-look- 
ing typewritten  letter.  "  Well,  I'll  admit  a  desire  to  get 
after  the  concern's  written  English.  But  I  think  I'll  pass 
it  up.  I  don't  think  I  want  to  spend  my  life  buying 
something  and  trying  to  sell  it  again.  Too  many  of  us 
do  that.  And  it's  a  very  inadequate  return  for  what  our 
fathers  suffered  in  getting  us  over  here.  One  may  prob- 
ably buy  and  sell  in  the  older  countries.  It's  up  to  us 
to  make  better  use  of  what  America  offers." 

"  You  talk  like  a  blooming  Chautauqua  course  your- 
self," sneered  Arthur.  "  And  you'll  find  your  illusions 
bu'sted,  as  sure  as  you  got  your  diploma  in  a  basement 
instead  of  from  dignitaries  in  rows.  But,  of  all  places, 
why  Holly?" 

"  It  happens  to  be  my  home." 

"  Yes,"  said  Arthur,  excited  almost  to  tears,  "  and 
that  home  will  drag  you  down  and  sit  on  you.  To  a  few, 
like  my  old  Uncle  Abner,  you'll  be  a  fine  fellow,  a  Polish 
boy  who  went  to  college,  but  they  won't  understand  you 
in  the  least  for  all  that.  Your  brothers  and  sisters  will 
expect  you  to  aid  'em  in  all  sorts  of  impossible  ways. 
And  the  town  itself!  Darn  little  self-satisfied,  narrow- 
minded,  minister  and  doctor  proud  village." 

"  Perfectly  good  description,"  said  Stanislarni,  "  hint- 
ing at  several  reasons  why  I'm  going." 

"  Oh,  all  right,"  returned  Arthur,  through  clinched 


240  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

teeth.  "  Your  haste  to  be  off  tells  me  that  in  spite  of 
your  ultra-modest  protestations,  you  are  really  intending 
to  take  up  he-dressmaking  in  your  near-native  dale.  Tell 
me  one  thing,  which  you  going  to  make  over  first — 
Natupski  family  or  town  ?  " 

Stanislarni  made  the  kiddish  reply  of  a  sofa  pillow, 
but  as  a  fact  the  question  troubled  him  on  the  train,  and 
he  got  into  the  smoker  to  think. 

He  wouldn't  try  to  make  over  his  father  and  mother, 
because  he  knew  they  didn't  want  to  be  made  over.  Since 
'Statia's  marriage  papa  had  been  only  anxious  to  reduce 
the  new  furniture  to  kindling  wood,  and  start  a  cold 
frame  in  the  parlor.  No,  the  Natupskis  didn't  relish 
being  reformed.  Stanislarni,  from  his  own  indepen- 
dence, knew  why  they  didn't  relish  it.  He  had  never  let 
anybody  but  Arthur  try  it  on  him,  and  Arthur's  power 
extended  nowhere  beyond  haberdashery. 

Thinking  of  Arthur  in  that  connection  brought  to  mind 
the  first  time  his  cicerone  had  taken  him  out  to 
buy  things.  Left  alone  Stanislarni  would  have  gravi- 
tated to  the  gaudy  stores  with  the  cheap  and  nifty  dis- 
play. 

"  Nix,"  said  Arthur,  "  the  places  with  the  best  shirts 
have  the  modest  shop  windows." 

"  That's  it — for  my  wares  today,"  Stanislarni  told 
himself,  "  I'll  put  'em  in  a  modest  shop  window." 

It  was  very  late  when  Stanislarni  left  the  train.  That 
is,  it  was  very  late  for  Holly.  About  half -past  nine 
o'clock.  Holly  waited  up  until  this  train  whistled  its 
way  out  of  town,  then  called  it  a  day,  and  extinguished 
the  lights.  As  the  young  man  shouldered  his  luggage 
and  started  to  walk  round  the  mountain  the  post-office 


MODEST  SHOP  WINDOWS  241 

was  bolted  with  a  noise  as  of  jails  in  furious  grand 
opera. 

The  grocery  store  did  not  follow  suit. 

Stanislarni  felt  that  he  must  stop  and  learn  the  reason, 
and  was  told  that  it  was  because  several  of  the  men  were 
inside  kicking  Dick  Perkins  awake. 

"  How  d'ye  mean — awake  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  fool  took  a  contract  to  deliver  a  thousand 
cords  of  wood  at  Mifflin  Grove  for  a  thousand  dollars. 
You  know  Dick — of  course,  his  folks  live  in  West  Holly. 
Dick's  married  not  to  suit  his  mother,  and  he  wanted 
this  thousand  the  worst  way.  Mortgage  on  his  place 
just  going  to  be  foreclosed,  but  he  was  let  draw  five 
hundred  in  advance,  and  settled  that.  He's  got  to  work 
off  the  dead  horse  now,  you  see.  Been  on  the  job  six 
weeks  and  all  in.  Can't  keep  a  man  to  spell  him  for 
what  he  can  afford  to  pay,  and  hasn't  had  a  proper  rest 
for  a  month." 

Stanislarni's  entrance  into  the  business  life  of  Holly 
was  rather  more  abrupt  than  he  had  planned.  Cast- 
ing his  young  trunk  to  the  ground,  he  demanded 
of  the  youth  before  him,  "  Hell !  Can't  you  drive  a 
span  ?  " 

"Can  I?" 

"  Well,  why're  you  standing  round  liked  a  damned 
stoughton  bottle  for?  Why  don't  you  take  the  load  to 
Mifflin?" 

"  Huh?  How'd  I  look  butting  in?  His  funeral.  Not 
mine.  Nor  yourn.  Besides,  he  only  offers  a  dollar  and 
a  quarter  a  day." 

Stanislarni  took  one  glance  at  the  interior  of  the  store, 
where  the  half -crazed  Perkins  was  whimpering  to  be  let 


242  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

alone,  even  while  he  spurred  his  will  to  prop  his  eyelids 
up. 

"  Knock  that  poor  devil  down  and  leave  him  lay," 
shouted  Stanislarni,  heaving  in  his  baggage.  "  In  the 
morning  I'll  call  for  the  valise  and  let  him  know  he's 
hired  me  to  drive  for  a  dollar  and  a  quarter." 

Stanislarni  "  spelled  "  his  employer  for  a  week,  driving 
every  other  load.  He  found  Dick  Perkins  just  as  he 
remembered  him  in  District  Seven,  good-natured  and 
quite  devoid  of  forethought.  He  was  exactly  the  sort  of 
a  chap  who  would  agree  to  deliver  one  thousand  cords  of 
wood  for  one  thousand  dollars,  and  see  only  the  thousand 
dollars.  Stanislarni,  on  his  trips,  saw  only  the  thousand 
trips.  If  the  trips  could  be  managed  right,  the  money 
would  be  partly  velvet.  Not  all,  as  poor  Dick  Perkins 
had  fatuously  believed,  but  partly.  Stanislarni  covered 
the  ends  of  ties  with  figures  proving  the  number  of  miles 
to  be  traveled,  and  calculations  of  the  depreciation  in 
horseflesh. 

The  last  was  the  principal  handicap.  Stanislarni  came 
down  into  the  Perkins  kitchen  one  morning.  (He 
boarded  with  the  young  people  so  as  to  be  near  the 
job.)  Dick  was  groaning  into  his  own  clasped  arms. 
One  of  the  second  span  was  trembling  on  the  legs,  quite 
unable  to  stand,  let  alone  draw  a  load. 

"  Condition  powder,"  advised  Stanislarni. 

"  No  use.  I've  been  keeping  the  creatures  up  with 
them  for  some  time.  The  last  trip  was  made  with  a  shot 
of  strychnine." 

Stanislarni  was  struck  with  horror  for  as  much  as 
fifteen  seconds.  This  was  Dick  Perkins,  whose  mother 
had  introduced  the  S.P.C.T.A.  in  West  Holly!     The 


MODEST  SHOP  WINDOWS  243 

very  wagon  drawn  by  the  tortured  beast  bore  a  "  Kind- 
ness to  Animals  "  sign. 

Dick  Perkins  proceeded  to  curse  his  luck,  also  his 
young  wife,  who  stood  sniffing  in  the  pantry  door. 

"  And  what's  eating  those  horses,"  he  went  on,  "  God 
only  knows.  Don't  seem  to  me  any  job  for  two  of  'em 
to  draw  a  load  to  Mifflin  and  haul  the  wagon  back  empty. 
But  down  they  lie  and  croak  just  to  be  vexatious.  I 
wish  father'd  put  me  in  the  Navy,  as  he  threatened." 

Stanislarni  stood  like  a  young  tower  in  the  small 
kitchen,  a  shoe  in  each  hand.  To  think  it  was  simple  as 
that,  and  he  had  missed  it.  Figured  all  over  the  ends  of 
ties,  and  then  had  missed  it.  And  so  simple!  Well,  all 
great  discoveries  were  stuck  in  front  of  noses,  but  people 
didn't  see  'em  for  centuries.  Then  along  came  some 
genius  and  told  'em  what  to  do  with  the  squeal  of  the 
pig  or  a  similar  waste  product,  and — presto — a  fortune. 

As  his  hired  man  continued  to  stand  stock-still,  Dick 
Perkins  stopped  fuming  after  a  time,  and  asked,  sar- 
castically, "  I  say,  Natupski,  had  you  any  idea  of  going 
to  Mifflin  today?" 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  said  Stanislarni ;  "  it'll  need 
twenty-four  hours'  consideration." 

"  Is  this  a  job  at  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  a  day,"  asked 
Perkins,  "  or  is  it  a  darn  debating  society?  " 

"  It's  a  school,"  said  Stanislarni.  "  I  want  to  take  a 
recess  to  learn  the  answer  in." 

"  I  suppose  you  mean  the  day  off,"  said  Perkins, 
sulkily. 

Stanislarni  gave  him  a  good  look  for  the  first  time 
since  coming  downstairs,  and  replied  that  he  did.  To 
his  surprise  this  seemed  as  much  a  matter  for  regret  to 


244  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

Perkins  as  the  sick  horse  and  the  looming  ruin  of  the 
contract.  He  didn't  know  that  some  men  seldom  see 
essentials  because  of  trifles. 

Stanislarni's  business  kept  him  until  afternoon  at 
Mifflin  Grove,  and  when  he  came  back  he  made  a  detour 
to  Holly  Centre,  where  the  foundation  was  being  dug  for 
a  large  new  addition  to  the  dormitory  buildings  on  the 
Academy  campus.  He  did  not  near  West  Holly  until 
almost  sunset.  He  thought  he  would  strike  up  the  old 
road,  by  Solomon  Russell's,  turn  in  cross  lots,  and  go  to 
see  his  folks.  He  had  been  too  busy  driving  to  Mifflin 
and  resting  between  trips  for  more  than  brief  calls  in 
the  past  week. 

As  he  wriggled  through  the  barb  wire  that  separated 
Natupski  from  Slocumb  land,  which  was  like  going  from 
a  desert  to  an  oasis,  because  Slocumb's  fields  were  suc- 
cumbing to  long  continued  neglect,  while  Natupski's 
responded  to  sustained  industry,  he  saw  a  man  leading 
a  tottering  horse. 

"  Why,  it's  father,"  Stanislarni  told  himself.  "  Hello, 
father." 

Kani  Natupski  raised  a  pair  of  disapproving  eyes. 

"  You?  "  said  his  father.  "  Why  ain't  you  working? 
Loafing  four  years,  a  feller  ought  to  get  rested." 

Kani  insisted  on  thinking  going  to  college  was  one 
long,  useless  vacation. 

Stanislarni  was  looking  at  the  horse.  It  was  the 
wreck  of  a  once  fine  animal,  ruined  by  overwork  and  too 
heavy  drafts  on  his  strength.  He  recognized  it.  He 
could  not  help  but  recognize  it.  It  was  the  horse  Dick 
Perkins  had  kept  up  with  condition  powders  and  finished 
with  a  shot  of  strychnine.     Stanislarni  knew  something 


MODEST  SHOP  WINDOWS  245 

about  horses,  for  he  had  driven  a  dray  in  Boston  one 
vacation  during  his  college  course.  It  was  the  summer 
before  his  sophomore  year.  The  next  summer  he  drove 
a  taxicab. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it?"  he  asked  his 
father.  "  Put  it  out  to  grass  ?  Hasn't  Perkins  pas- 
turage of  his  own  ?  " 

Kani  Natupski  assumed  a  look  of  elation. 

"  Bought  him,"  he  gleed.  "  Dam'  good  bargain. 
Dick  Perkins  pay  one  hundred  dollar  two  month  ago. 
Sell  to  me  for  ten.     Dam'  good  bargain." 

"  Don't  see  it,"  persisted  Stanislarni.  "  You'll  have  to 
feed  the  creature  up  all  summer,  and  then  I  doubt  if  it's 
ever  worth  much.  See  how  it  shakes  when  I  touch  its 
flank?  Its  spirit's  broken  and  its  nerve's  gone.  He 
doped  it." 

Kani  jumped  up  and  down  with  the  impatience  of  his 
joy. 

"  Sure  he  give  dope.  Dam'  fine  thing.  He  show  me 
how.  Use  horse  through  haying — one  week — ten  days. 
Save  half  of  hiring  horse  at  two  dollar  day.  Hay  in — 
knock  um  on  head.  Two  dollar  for  carcass  to  glue 
factory.  And  want  get  in  big  load  to  barn  in  hurry, 
bunch  burrs  under  tail.     Dam'  fine  bargain." 

Stanislarni's  answer  was  to  draw  from  a  pocket  the 
revolver  he  had  secured  a  permit  to  carry  when  on  the 
long  night  rides.  A  moment  later  the  abused  animal 
lay  dead  on  the  hillside. 

Then  his  hand  went  back  into  his  pocket  and  this  time 
came  forth  with  a  ten-dollar  bill.  It  was  the  only  money 
he  possessed. 

"  Take  it,"  he  said,  and  pressed  it  within  the  not  un- 


246  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

willing  hand  of  his  father.  Then  he  resumed  his  stride 
to  the  house.  After  a  moment's  contemplation  of  the 
dead  bargain,  the  little  man  pattered  by  his  side,  taking 
four  steps  to  the  son's  one.  Stanislarni  was  whistling, 
having  picked  up  this  Yankee  accomplishment  from* 
Arthur  Slocumb.  Kani  was  gnashing  his  teeth,  crack- 
ing his  finger  joints,  cursing  and  occasionally  giving  a 
withering  look  at  this  huge  marplot. 

They  reached  the  house  without  further  incident. 
Stanislarni,  who  had  spent  four  years  forgetting  that  such 
obstacles  were  ever  before  doors,  walked  cleverly  over  the 
hens  and  Zinzic  and  Yan  on  the  step;  Kani,  who  was 
met  by  them  many  times  a  day,  stumbled,  and  gave  such  a 
vicious  kick  that  it  took  half  an  hour  to  quiet  the  little 
boys.  After  the  noise  subsided,  Stanislarni  went  to  the 
piazza  to  speak  to  a  few  more  brothers  and  sisters  who 
were  assembled  in  an  attractive  and  characteristic  family 
group.  'Rinka  was  mending  a  pair  of  gaudy  stockings 
with  safety  pins,  Novia  did  nothing  at  all  quite  grace- 
fully, Wajeiceh  hectored  Tadcuse,  and  Yadna  was  chop- 
ping wood.  Since  Yadna  was  only  seven  years  old  this 
was  supposed  to  be  most  appropriate  work  for  her,  and 
really  she  wielded  the  sharp  little  ax  very  well,  while 
splinters  flew  in  a  manner  most  deceptive  to  the  chickens, 
that  always  thought  they  would  turn  out  to  be  eatable. 

Stanislarni  snatched  the  hatchet  and  turned  to  Wajei- 
ceh and  Tadcuse.  "  You  great  big  brutes,"  he  remarked, 
"  sitting  there  and  letting  a  little  girl  split  wood ! " 

He  finished  the  job  with  stern  expedition,  while  Yadna 
sucked  a  finger  and  criticized  his  manner  of  working. 
It  was  plain  she  considered  herself  an  adept  at  making 
kindlings. 


MODEST  SHOP  WINDOWS  247 

He  went  into  the  kitchen,  washed  his  hands,  dried  them 
by  a  few  passes  in  the  air,  the  roller  towel  being  some- 
thing to  shudder  at,  and  joined  the  group  on  the  piazza. 

Novia  slipped  a  dirty  little  hand  into  big  brother's, 
and  crooked  Stepan  smiled  from  where  he  sat  by  mam- 
ma. He  and  mamma  were  great  pals  now,  they  were 
bringing  up  baby  Zinzic  together. 

Stanislarni  made  up  his  mind  to  consult  his  father 
as  to  the  plan  which  had  been  born  in  Dick  Perkins's 
kitchen,  in  the  interest  of  which  he  had  been  to  Mifflin 
Grove  and  Holly  -Centre  that  day. 

"  I  suppose  you  know  all  about  Dick  Perkins's  job," 
he  began.  "  One  thousand  cords  of  wood  to  be  hauled 
to  Mifflin  Grove  for  one  thousand  dollars.  He  didn't 
reckon  on  all  the  bad  features — muddy  roads,  sick  horses, 
wear  and  tear  of  wheels,  besides  its  taking  so  much  time 
he  can't  hoe  his  crops  or  get  in  his  hay.  If  he  gives  up 
he  forfeits  what  he's  already  earned,  and  must  pay  over 
the  advance  which  he  has  put  into  his  house." 

"  Yah,"  said  Kani,  with  the  cheer  of  a  prosperous  man 
passing  judgment  on  an  unprosperous  one.  "  Dam' 
fool." 

"  Well,  listen,  father.  Here's  a  plan  I've  got  to  make 
the  job  a  paying  instead  of  a  losing  one.  What  d'ye 
think  of  it?  You  see,  the  horses  get  worn  out,  and  can't 
carry  more  than  two  cords,  anyhow.  At  that  rate,  leav- 
ing out  Sundays  and  storms,  he'll  be  two  years  com- 
pleting the  contract.  He'll  have  paid  about  six  hundred 
to  me,  or  whoever  helps  him  drive;  will  have  lost  his 
own  time  for  twenty-four  months,  and  have  bought 
several  hundred  dollars'  worth  of  horse  flesh." 

"  Sure,"  commented  Kani.    "  Dam'  'Merican  fool." 


248  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

"  Now  for  my  plan.  They're  going  to  haul  the  bricks 
and  lumber  for  the  new  dormitory  at  the  Academy  from 
Mifflin  Grove.  They'll  use  a  motor  truck.  I've  got  the 
promise  of  the  job  to  drive  the  truck.  The  pay  is  eighteen 
dollars  a  week.  Instead  of  sending  the  truck  empty,  I 
have  arranged  to  run  it  around  the  mountain,  take  on 
four  cords  or  so  of  wood,  and  drive  them  to  Mifflin. 
Bad,  eh?" 

Kani  Natupski  caught  the  idea  even  as  his  son  pre- 
sented it.  He  might  seem  obtuse  when  a  moral  principle 
was  before  him,  but  he  could  understand  any  plan  that 
involved  making  money.  He  jumped  into  the  air,  clapped 
his  hands,  kicked  Tadcuse  playfully,  and  kissed  Stanis- 
larni  with  a  loud  smack.  Then  he  handed  his  eldest 
son  his  hat. 

"  Hurry  up,  quick,"  he  said,  "  buy  the  job  'fore  Per- 
kins sell  to  some  one.  He  talk  about  giving  bonus — 
horses,  cow,  wagon — to  one  who  take  it  from  him.  He 
throw  in  for  nothing  what  he  already  done.  Hurry  quick. 
Novia,  fetch  slate  and  make  figures.  Eighteen  dollar 
week  and  one  thousand  for  carrying  wood.  Multoplicate 
and  substract  up.  Then  all  come  out  is  for  hire  of  truck 
round  mountain  and  gasoline  to  Mifflin  and  back.  Good, 
Stanislarni.    Fine,  good.    Rich  you  shall  be.    Dam'  rich." 

"  Not  I,"  replied  Stanislarni,  leaning  back  and  pulling 
Yan's  ear.  "  I'm  to  get  the  wages  for  driving.  That's 
fair  and  square.  Perkins  will  have  the  money  for  carry- 
ing the  wood — the  thousand  dollars — minus  what  the 
extra  truck  load  lets  the  building  contractors  in  for. 
And  he  can  run  his  farm  all  the  while  his  job  is  being 
done." 

At  this  untoward  moment  Novia  presented  the  slate  on 


MODEST  SHOP  WINDOWS  249 

which  her  sum  was  done  very  neatly.  Mr.  Natupski 
smashed  the  slate  over  the  nearest  head — luckily  that  of 
Wajeiceh,  whose  skull  was  reasonably  thick.  Then  he 
went  out  to  the  barn  and  raised  hell  for  a  couple  of  hours. 

As  it  was  by  that  time  late  even  for  West  Holly,  which 
in  the  persons  of  the  Natupskis  kept  hours  that  would 
have  scandalized  Holly  Depot,  Stanislarni  started  for 
his  bed  at  Dick  Perkins's.  Right  in  the  road  he  met 
Perkins  himself.  Perkins  was  as  angry  as  Kani  Natupski 
had  been  twice  during  the  day,  and  he  had  a  good  many 
more  words  to  tell  it  in. 

"  Here's  your  bag,"  said  he,  slamming  Stanislarni's 
personal  property  at  him.  "  You  needn't  come  down  to 
the  house  for  anything.  Marion  picked  the  things  up. 
They're  all  there.  You're  fired.  Do  you  hear — fired? 
It's  all  over  town,  how  you've  been  snooping  round  to  cut 
under  me.  Run  a  truck  round  the  mountain  and  carry  off 
my  wood,  while  I'm  at  home  working  like  a  nigger  in  the 
hayfield  or  cradling  oats.  You  riding  round  on  an 
auto,  and  me  digging  potatoes.  Nice  sitting  down  job 
for  Stanislarni  Natupski,  while  Dick  Perkins  is  breaking 
his  back !  Pretty  soft  for  you.  And  I  suppose  you  ex- 
pect me  to  pay  you  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  a  day  for  it." 

"  No,"  said  Stanislarni,  "  I  expect  you  to  pay  me 
eighteen  dollars  a  week." 

"  Well,  you  lose  your  guess.    As  I  said,  you're  fired." 

"  Wait  a  minute — listen !  "  said  Stanislarni,  with  the 
good-natured  tolerance  that  always  gave  him  the  air 
of  a  massive  St.  Bernard  dog  smiling  over  a  puppy 
worrying  a  bone.  And  he  carefully  outlined  the  plan,  as 
he  had  outlined  it  to  his  father.  Kani  Natupski  emerged 
from  the  barn  and  stood  in  the  semi-darkness,  listening. 


250  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

Instead  of  seeing  the  scheme  in  all  its  beauty,  as  Kani 
Natupski,  the  supposedly  stupid  foreigner,  had  seen  it, 
Dick  Perkins  grew  more  unreasonably  angry  with  every 
explanation.  He  knew  he  was  being  done  by  this 
Polander;  each  appeal  to  his  judgment  added  to  the  as- 
surance of  being  done.  He  would  not  be  done.  He  had 
been  enough  of  a  laughing-stock  all  through  the  affair, 
kicked  awake  at  Holly  Depot  by  men  who'd  always  tell 
it  against  him,  if,  like  his  great  grandfather,  he  lived  to 
be  a  hundred  and  one. 

"  Save  your  breath  to  cool  your  porridge,"  he  said, 
roughly,  when  the  ever-patient  Stanislarni  would  have 
urged  him  again  to  consider.  "  It's  come  to  put  up  or 
shut  up.  Will  you  buy  the  contract  for  cash?  No 
promises,  but  hard  cash — every  cent  I've  actually 
earned?  " 

Stanislarni  turned  his  pockets. 

"  You  see,"  he  said.  "  Not  a  red.  And  that  would  be 
no  way  for  you  to  do,  anyhow.  You'd  lose  all  your  time, 
and  the  worth  of  the  worn-out  horse.  Don't  spite  your- 
self." 

"  Money  talks,"  sneered  young  Mr.  Perkins.  "  Your 
chance  has  come  and  gone.  If  you  had  any  faith  in  your 
own  crazy  scheme  you'd  be  willing  to  take  a  risk.  But 
you  don't  catch  me.  I'll  turn  the  contract  over  tomorrow 
to  the  first  cash  offer.    G'  night." 

So  Stanislarni  slept  under  his  father's  roof. 

The  next  day  his  father  treated  him  like  one  of  the 
family,  told  him  twice  to  "  shut  up  "  at  breakfast,  and 
set  him  a  task  repairing  fence  in  a  distant  pasture.  Stan- 
islarni good-naturedly  shouldered  an  ax  and  went  to  the 
work. 


MODEST  SHOP  WINDOWS  251 

When  Stanislarni  returned  to  the  house,  hungry  for 
a  much  better  supper  than  it  would  afford,  his  father 
sat  on  the  piazza,  emptying  sand  and  gravel  from  his 
shoes.  A  white  paper  blotched  with  red  seals  lay  on  the 
dirty  boards.  Kani  shoved  it  toward  his  son  and  said 
nothing.     Stanislarni  took  it  and  read. 

"  Why,  father,"  he  said.    "  Why,  father !  " 

It  was  a  bill  of  sale,  properly  witnessed  and  drawn 
up  by  Blanchard  Bowes,  J.  P.,  wherein  Solomon  Russell 
took  from  Richard  Perkins  all  right  and  title  to  a  certain 
hauling  contract,  the  consideration  being  pay  at  one  dollar 
per  cord  for  the  amount  carried  to  date. 

"  Turn  her,"  said  Kani,  and  Stanislarni  did.  There 
were  two  transfers,  one  from  Solomon  Russell  to  Kani 
Natupski,  and  one  from  Kani  Natupski  to  Stanislarni 
of  the  same  name. 

The  young  man  breathed  hard.  At  five  o'clock  that 
day  he  hadn't  been  worth  a  penny,  and  he  was  very  much 
afraid  he  would  not  secure  the  trucking  job  without  the 
inducement  of  the  backward  haul.  Now  he  was  worth, 
in  prospect,  a  substantial  sum.  And  his  father  had 
brought  it  all  about.  His  little  shrunken  father,  only 
half  awakened  from  his  alien  ways,  whom  he  had  con- 
demned as  having  no  interest  in  him,  no  sympathy  for 
him. 

Father  and  son  did  not  speak,  they  were  as  silent  as  a 
couple  of  New  Englanders  might  have  been  over  an 
affair  of  the  heart,  but  Stanislarni  took  his  father's  boot 
and  groped  inside  for  a  stone  lodged  near  the  toe,  and 
Kani  grunted  when  he  got  it  back. 

Just  then  Abner  Slocumb  strolled  over  for  a  con- 
fab. 


252  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

"  How  d'ye  like  it,  boy,"  he  asked,  "  being  the  big  noise 
of  Holly?" 

"  I  hope  my  truck  won't  be  such  a  nuisance  as  all  that," 
was  Stanislarni's  comeback. 

"  Get  out !  You  know  well  enough  what  I  mean.  Say, 
come  over  to  our  house  to  supper.  She's  making  a  short- 
cake and  won't  take  no  for  an  answer.  Bring  some  the 
others — say  Novy  and  Yadna  and  the  little  lame  feller. 
I'd  give  you  all  a  bid  only  we  ain't  got  but  half  a  dozen 
of  any  kind  of  plates.  We  never  laid  out  for  a  big 
family." 

Stanislarni  would  have  remained  beside  his  newly 
discovered  father,  but  the  scurry  of  excitement  among 
the  children  was  not  to  be  withstood.  Mrs.  Slocumb's 
food,  however  frequently  sampled,  was  something  of 
which  one  never  got  quite  enough. 

Abner  slouched  back  to  tell  "  her  "  to  put  a  leaf  in  the 
table,  while  he  sat  and  snickered  at  young  Natupski 
thinking  he  could  do  any  gum-shoeing  in  Holly. 

Over  at  Natupski's  Stanislarni  was  unstrapping  his 
young  trunk  to  get  out  a  clean  shirt  and  the  other  khaki 
trousers.  He  also  combed  Novia's  hair  and  buttoned 
her  dress,  since  it  appeared  that  otherwise  she  would  go 
out  to  tea  with  neither  attended  to.  And  he  took  Yadna 
to  the  sink  and  washed  her  quite  thoroughly;  with  which 
example  Stepan  turned  himself  out  shining  with  soap. 
So  extraordinary  was  the  result  of  all  this  preparation 
that  Nancy  Slocumb  would  by  and  by  say  to  Abner, 
"Did  you  ever  see  such  an  improvement?  It  paid  to 
have  him  go  to  college.  Those  young  ones  haven't  looked 
so  slick  since  'Statia  became  Mrs.  Donahue." 

But  just  now  there  is  one  more  scene  with  Kani,  who 


MODEST  SHOP  WINDOWS  253 

draws  Stanislarni  back,  as  he  is  marshaling  the  little 
crowd  Slocumbward. 

"  It  was  in  Poland,"  said  Kani.  "  Dam'  long  time 
ago.  You  was  born.  Today.  Dam'  long  time  ago.  So 
me  make  you  gift.     Because  me  never  did  yet." 

He  handed  Stanislarni  two  dollars.  The  boy  took  it 
wondering. 

"  Thank  you,  father.  So  it  is  my  birthday,  but  I  don't 
really  deserve  money,  when  you  have  given  me  all  the 
paper  represents — a  much  greater  present."  He  showed 
the  bill  of  sale.  Kani  waved  it  away  as  mere  dross  and 
beamed  at  the  two  dollars. 

"  A  gift,"  he  repeated,  "  for  your  birthday.  Jus'  a 
gift."   . 

Stanislarni  went  into  the  Slocumbs'  dining-room  with 
a  heart  mushy  as  the  berries  Mrs.  Slocumb  was  lavishly 
spreading  on  the  cake.  He  did  not  know  that  this  sum, 
so  sentimentally  bestowed  as  a  birthday  gift,  was  actually 
his  due  considering  the  ten  dollars  he  had  paid  his  father 
on  account  of  shooting  the  horse.  Kani  had  done  more 
business  that  day  than  purchase  the  transfer  of  Dick 
Perkins's  contract.  He  had  sold  a  horse's  carcass  to  the 
glue  factory.    The  price  paid  was  two  dollars. 


VI 

( 

A  'MERICAN  MARRIAGE 

"  Loafer  ! "  shrieked  Kani  Natupski,  using  the  goad 
to  lick  himself  into  a  real  good  frenzy.  "  Lazy  picshure ! 
What  lets  you  always  to  sit  down?  Mamma,  what  does 
she  do?  Kicks  the  horse,  that's  what  she  do.  And 
Wajeiceh  the  cow.  Novia  run  after  the  chickens,  awful 
fast.  And  Yadna  smash  wood  and  the  barn  under  for 
the  hen's  eggs.  And  what  do  you?  Wash  yourself. 
Wash  yourself!    Hell!" 

He  addressed  Marinka,  of  whom  he  had  lately  realized 
the  truth  that  she  had  never  earned  her  salt.  Now  she 
was  sixteen  he  planned  putting  her  on  the  hay  rake.  It 
was  work  warranted  to  displace  most  female  internal 
organs  in  a  season. 

There  being  no  grass  down,  Kani  thrust  a  bucket  of 
swill  into  Marinka' s  hold,  and  escorted  her  to  the  shack, 
where  dwelt  a  magnificent  sow  and  thirteen  piglets. 

"  Stop !  "  he  bawled,  when  Marinka  was  for  dumping 
the  odorous  liquid  into  the  noisome  trough.  "  One  who 
washes  herself  should  know  more  better.    In  with  you." 

Sobbing  with  disgust,  Marinka  leaped  into  the  slime 
and  battled  against  muck.  After  feeding  began  Kani 
scratched  the  sow's  spine  and  read  his  daughter  a  moral 
lecture. 

"  See  you.  How  useful  she  is.  Three  times  each  year 
she  pigs  and  thirteen  at  a  lick.     Even  her  diversions  is 

354 


A  'MERICAN  MARRIAGE  255 

profitable.  For  a  dollar  each  they  sell  without  fattening. 
Years  she  does  this,  then  to  the  butcher's  for  a  fine  sum. 
Clothes  she  wears  none.  Does  she  wash  herself  ?  Never  S 
Take  shame  that  of  you  I  am  less  proud." 

Marinka's  underlip  fell. 

Down  the  road  and  into  a  kitchen  prismatic  with  soap 
she  sped,  coming  to  a  halt  with  the  cry,  "  'Lo,  Mrs.  Tom- 
my Donahue.     I've  come  to  ask  you  what  next  ?  " 

Anastasia  turned  up  her  nose  at  the  smell  of  pig  and 
with  her  first  words  touched  on  the  chief  cause  of  trouble. 

"  Marinka  Natupski,  why  don't  you  wash  yourself ! " 

Marinka  sank  to  the  calico-covered  lounge  and  whim- 
pered. "  That's  just  it.  Papa  says  I  sha'n't.  He  wants 
I  should  clean  the  pen." 

'Statia  stopped  polishing  the  tea-kettle  and  gave  her 
sister  a  good  look  over,  then  spoke  oracularly.  "  There, 
just  like  I  bet  Tommy  'twould  be  when  you  done  school. 
Now  why  don't  you  do  like  I  did,  'Rinka?  Buy  your- 
self swell  clothes  and  go  places.  Sure  enough,  hanging 
'round  papa's  feeding  pigs  won't  never  get  you  nowhere." 

"  Swell  clothes  is  nice,"  smiled  Marinka.  "  Pink  ones. 
And  feather  hats.  And  I  love  riding  on  trolley-car  front 
seats  when  they  go  fast  over  railroad  bridges.  But — 
where'll  I  get  the  cash-money?" 

"  Didn't  I  say  do  like  I  did  ?  Get  a  job  o'  work  to 
some  nice  lady's." 

Marinka  sighed.  Of  course  Mrs.  Slocumb  and  'Statia 
couldn't  sympathize;  they  didn't  have  it  so  hard,  they 
had  men  to  give  them  money,  they  were  married 

Married — that  was  it !    Marinka  saw  a  way  out. 

"  Say,  'Statia,"  she  observed,  casually,  "  no  old  job 
o'  work  for  me.    I'm  going  to  get  married." 


256  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

Whereat  'Statia  insulted  her  by  giggling  and  asking 
"Who's  the  feller?" 

Marinka  had  no  answer  right  ready,  but  just  then 
there  came  from  the  barn  a  sound  as  of  fifteen  tin  cans 
falling  on  to  three  iron  stoves  and  bringing  down  seven 
ice  tongs  in  their  fall.  At  this  Marinka  followed  the  lead- 
ing of  the  gods,  and  said  "  Oh — him !  " 

"Him?"  'Statia  was  quite  incredulous.  "Jeff 
Browne  ?  " 

"  Uh-uh.  A  'Merican  beau.  I  guess  papa  can't  kick 
'bout  a  girl  washing  herself  when  she's  a  'Merican 
beau." 

"  Good  enough — when  she  got  one,"  said  'Statia. 
"  You  don't  know  him.     Bet  yer  yer  don't." 

Marinka  wanted  to  depart  in  pride,  but  her  need  of 
'Statia's  help  kept  her  meek. 

"  If  I  had  swell  clothes,"  she  said,  "  he'd  know  me." 

She  hoped  for  the  loan  of  a  dress,  but  'Statia  was 
firmly  set  against  spending  her  Tommy's  small  pay  on 
papa's  big  family. 

"  G'long  home,"  she  counseled,  "  and  cry  a  whole 
lot.  Maybe  papa  notices  it  and  gives  you  some  cash- 
money." 

It  actually  turned  out  that  way.  Kani,  satiated  with 
sobs,  threatened  to  use  the  goad  unless  told  the  cause 
of  the  trouble.  When  he  learned  it  was  fifteen  dollars 
he  looked  at  the  weapon  and  handed  over  five.  At  the 
same  time  he  mused  anent  Marinka's  younger  sisters. 
In  Poland  one  married  a  girl  for  no  more ! 

'Statia  helped  with  patterns  and  sewing-machine  and 
Marinka  thus  became  equipped  for  the  subjugation  of 
Jeff  Browne. 


A  'MERICAN  MARRIAGE  257 

To  West  Holly  Jefferson  was  only  a  devilish  noise 
coming  along  the  road.  Being  the  milk  collector,  inter- 
mediary between  cow-keeping  and  monthly  checks,  no 
one  could  complain. 

To  little  Marinka  he  was  now  become  a  King 
Cophetua.  fafllCffk't+A-    <$Zu*  ^  XlM 

At  home  Jeff  was  the  family  runt,  of  consequence  only 
to  his  maiden  sister  Ruth,  who  loved  him  as  a  child 
cherishes  the  ugliest  doll  in  the  playhouse. 

Ruth  was  the  kind  of  girl  who,  when  asked  to  take  a 
buggy  drive,  went;  but  when  the  young  man  swore 
because  the  horse  got  its  tail  over  the  rein  she  plumped 
down  on  her  knees  then  and  there  and  began  to  pray. 
Still,  the  milk  customers  liked  her  because  she  kept  the 
books  intelligently,  and  had  a  little  way  of  appending 
clever  jingles  to  receipted  bills. 

Marinka  reckoned  without  Ruth.  Indeed,  the  Natup- 
ski  girl  did  not  realize  that  Jefferson  was  not  the  head 
and  front  of  the  milk  business,  in  which  the  Browne 
family  was  doing  well.  That  dignity  was  really  old 
George  Washington  Browne's,  whose  hirsute  face  was 
well  known  as  that  of  chairman  of  the  board  of  select- 
men, collector  of  Indian  relics,  and  the  only  man  in  town 
who  subscribed  to  the  Atlantic  Monthly.  The  active 
management,  moreover,  centered  in  W.  Henry  Harrison 
Browne,  the  third  son,  a  plump  bachelor  of  forty,  who 
might  be  seen  at  any  time  between  two  and  eight  a.m., 
slumbering  in  a  milk  cart  on  the  streets  of  Mifflin  Grove. 
All  that  town  took  milk  "  off "  Browne's,  and  it  was 
presumed  the  horse  delivered  the  bottles,  as  no  one  ever 
saw  W.  Henry  Harrison  awake. 

The  oldest  son  was  town  clerk  of  Holly,  the  next  was 


258  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

assessor;  there  was  a  daughter  older  than  Ruth  who  had 
become  a  school  teacher  and  ultimately  married  advan- 
tageously. 

What  Marinka  knew  of  this  made  her  endow  Jefferson 
with  all  the  virtues,  civic  and  private,  of  his  brothers  and 
sisters. 

Jefferson  and  Marinka  might  have  met  at  the  barn, 
chaperoned  by  milk  cans,  but  it  had  been  more  romantic- 
ally arranged. 

Marinka  had  probably  been  always  about  in  the 
Natupski  crowd,  but  barelegged  and  elf -locked.  So, 
when  Jefferson  saw  her  at  Silver  Lake  Trolley  Park  it 
was  as  'Statia  had  predicted.  He  didn't  know  her  at 
all. 

"  'Lo,  Jeff  Browne,"  she  called,  as  he  swaggered  by 
with  a  crowd  of  young  fellows,  all  roystering,  and  all  up 
a  tree  for  some  real  excitement. 

Jefferson  did  not  hear,  and  Marinka's  lip  drooped. 

One  of  the  boys,  noticing,  inquired,  "  Say,  Jeff,  who's 
the  skirt  turning  on  waterworks  for  you  ?  " 

"Huh?"  asked  Jefferson. 

"  Dam'  fine  girl  you  icy-mitted.  G'long  back  'n'  shout 
her  to  a  soda." 

Jefferson  reversed,  gave  Marinka  what  he  would  term 
the  onceover,  and  slouched  to  her  side. 

"  S'cuse,"  he  muttered,  almost  taking  off  his  hat. 
"  Didn't  see  yer  before.    Have  a  soda  ?  " 

"  No,  thanks,"  said  Marinka,  lifting  her  eyes,  and  then 
dropping  the  lids  as  one  might  curtains  when  the  sun 
shone  too  dazzlingly. 

Jefferson  came  nearer  and  took  his  hands  out  of  his 
pockets. 


A  'MERICAN  MARRIAGE  259 

"  Awful  glad  to  see  yer  here,"  he  continued.  "  Come 
on.    Le's  have  a  dish  ice-cream." 

"  I  guess  not."    Business  of  eyes  repeated. 

"  Gee,  it  was  lonesome  'fore  I  seen  yer.  Say,  won't 
you  join  me  in  a  hot  dog?  " 

"  I  don't  care  much  about  'em." 

Again  the  eyes. 

Jefferson  grasped  her  by  the  arm  and  propelled  her 
through  the  crowd  to  the  evil-smelling  baby  wharf  where 
one  might  secure  leaky  boats  at  twenty-five  cents  an  hour. 
He  did  not  ask  her  if  she  wanted  a  row,  but  put  her 
masterfully  into  the  blue  "  Water  Lily,"  removed  his 
coat,  waistcoat,  collar,  cuffs,  hat,  and  tie,  tied  his  sus- 
penders about  his  waist,  turned  up  his  trousers,  and 
shoved  off. 

All  this  time  he  had  no  idea  she  was  a  Natupski. 

By  the  time  he  learned  her  family  connections  he  had 
bought  her  a  pound  of  good  chocolates,  a  red,  white,  and 
blue  cane  having  a  fluff  of  pink  tissue  paper  on  one  end, 
a  hunk  of  popcorn,  an  ice-cream  cone,  and  a  dinner  in  the 
Epworth  League  tent.  Also  he  had  had  his  tintype 
taken  with  her. 

After  this  Marinka  felt  she  rightfully  hailed  him  as 
her  knight  and  her  ultimate  rescuer  whenever  he  came  to 
get  her  father's  milk  cans. 

Jefferson  never  entered  the  Natupski  home,  having 
imbibed  the  opinion  of  Ruth  that  it  was  an  abode  of 
disease  and  vermin.  Not  that  he  feared  either  so  awfully, 
but  what  he  saw  through  open  doors  of  lamp-lighted 
interiors  never  seemed  attractive.  Mrs.  Donahue  thought 
little  of  her  sister's  conquest. 

"  What  kind  a  beau  is  it  you  got  ?  "  she  asked  with 


260  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

scorn.  "  A  young  feller  driving  a  milk  team  so  he  can't 
go  out  nights." 

"  Jeff's  a  nice  feller,"  pouted  Marinka.  "  He  brings 
me  candy-bag  most  every  Sunday." 

"  Poh — eating  stuff.  That  ain't  nothing.  Did  he  give 
you  anything  nice  for  wear  ?  Silk  stockings,  maybe,  or  a 
gold  chain-locket?  Tommy  bringed  me  a  chain-locket 
the  second  time  he  come." 

"  Oh,  Tommy  Donahue  ain't  so  much,"  cried  Marinka. 
"  Only  a  Polisher  if  he  did  get  him  a  'Merican  name. 
Old  Mr.  Browne's  folks  been  round  here  two-three  hun- 
der'  years.  He  is  always  'Merican.  Rich,  too.  Me — 
I  sha'n't  live  no  little  small  house  like  this." 

"  Well,"  said  'Statia,  briskly,  "  I  only  hope  you  have 
it  half  so  nice.  All  same,  don't  take  up  with  Jeff  Browne 
because  his  papa  so  rich.  He  got  lots  brothers  and  sisters. 
'Sides,  me'n  Tommy  looked  in  tax  book,  and  he  not  so 
rich  as  our  tatulo,  after  all,  and  you  know  what  he  do 
for  you." 

Marinka  clenched  her  hands  in  anger.  Papa  had 
ordered  her  that  very  day  into  the  blackberry  canes.  She 
determined  to  go  and  spy  out  the  land. 

The  next  day  she  managed  to  annex  her  two  sisters, 
there  being  a  temporary  lull  in  blackberries,  and  a  walk 
of  four  miles  cross  lots  brought  them  to  a  part  of  town 
where  the  younger  Natupskis  never  went.  Coming  up  a 
pleasant  crooked  lane  Marinka  skipped  into  the  road 
at  a  place  where  several  wood-colored  houses  clustered 
about  a  white  school.  Bewildered,  she  gaped.  Not 
another  dwelling  was  in  sight. 

"  Always  I  heard  of  the  big  Browne  place,"  she  told 
the  others.     "  Over  this  way.    Which  is  it  ?  " 


A  'MERICAN  MARRIAGE  261 

"  Ask  the  man,"  said  Yadna,  who  had  positively  no 
modesty  in  her  make-up.  "  Hi,  mister !  .Where's  Mr. 
Selectman  Browne's  house  ?  " 

The  passerby  pointed  with  his  thumb  to  the  ugliest  of 
the  lot. 

"  That !  "  cried  Yadna.    "  Why,  'tain't  better'n  papa's." 

Indeed,  it  was  not  so  attractive,  the  Judson  Buckland 
place  having  been  a  fine  mansion  in  its  day  and  satisfac- 
tory in  its  ruin  as  a  once  beautiful  woman  is  satisfactory 
in  old  age.  This  building  stood  up,  too  tall  for  its 
width,  half  clapboarded,  unblinded,  with  no  steps  to  the 
front  door,  no  supports  to  the  piazza  roof.  It  was  like 
a  house  some  one  had  forgotten  when  partly  built.  Life 
there  could  be  no  better  than  'Statia's,  if  as  good. 
Marinka  murmured,  "  I  'most  as  lieves  feed  pigs." 

"  Le's  go  home  'long  the  road,"  said  Novia. 

Marinka  agreed,  in  listless  chagrin.  At  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  distant  the  highway  jerked  itself  around  a  sand- 
bank shoulder,  and  the  girls  descried  something  well 
worth  observation.  This  mansion  had  retired  from  the 
tumult,  as  sufficient  unto  itself,  and  demanding  a  home 
lot  of  ten  acres  to  breathe  in.  All  alone  it  stood,  'mid 
a  wide  expanse  of  flower  studded  lawn,  from  which  an 
occasional  vase-shaped  elm  cropped  up  to  cast  beautiful 
flowing  shadows  away  from  the  sunset.  The  third  story, 
out-jutting,  was  supported  by  great  pillars;  the  garret 
window  was  a  work  of  art  surrounded  by  a  laurel 
wreath.  Every  window  was  hung  with  a  muslin  curtain 
of  immaculate  whiteness;  on  the  piazza  was  a  bevy  of 
lounging  chairs  and  rustic  tables.  At  the  rear  huge 
barns  and  silos  hinted  at  the  means  whereby  this  grandeur 
was  supported.     It  needed  not  the  painted  legend    "  G. 


262  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

W.  Browne  Stock  Farm  "  on  the  biggest  and  reddest  of 
the  barns  to  reassure  Marinka. 

"  There  'tis,"  she  said  serenely,  and  gloated. 

"  Whew !  "  breathed  Yadna.  "  Guess  they  must  be  the 
rich  persons.  When  it's  yours  will  you  give  me  one  them 
curtains  to  make  me  a  dress-up  dress?" 

Marinka  gaped  her  fill,  picturing  herself  lounging  on 
the  piazza  in  gold-heeled  shoes.  She  guessed  Tommy 
Donahue  would  never  give  'Statia  anything  the  bigness 
of  that. 

Now  up  to  this  period  young  Jefferson's  courtship  had 
been  of  the  passive  kind.  He  had  allowed  Marinka 
to  climb  into  his  wagon  and  had  kissed  her  whenever  his 
wide  mouth  wasn't  busy  voicing  brags  of  his  prowess 
at  games  of  chance,  wrestling,  or  getting  the  better  of  his 
sister  Ruth.  Shortly  thereafter  circumstances  induced 
him  to  apparent  increased  initiative.  She  who  had  been 
Esther  Browne,  now  Mrs.  James  A.  Hoppin,  arrived 
for  her  annual  visit,  and  the  Browne  mansion  assumed  a 
fortnight's  aspect  of  peculiar  animation.  Mrs.  Hoppin 
lived  in  Yonkers,  which  almost  implied  New  York.  She 
said  she  "  always  shopped  at  Macy's,"  and  it  sounded 
very  fashionable  to  those  who  knew  not  Fifth  Avenue. 

Esther  had  been  the  family  beauty.  Ruth  resembled 
her  as  a  blurred  copy  resembles  the  real  thing.  Before 
her  calm  gaze  Ruth  trembled,  W.  Henry  Harrison  woke 
up,  G.  W.  reminded  himself  that  he  was  chairman  of 
the  board  of  selectmen,  and  Jefferson  ran  away. 

This  year  he  had  Marinka  to  run  to.  It  was  squalor, 
but  Jeff  preferred  it  to  the  present  home  atmosphere, 
where  Esther  was  putting  the  whole  family  through  a 
catechism  to  which  one  never  guessed  the  right  answers. 


A  'MERICAN  MARRIAGE  263 

"  Why  don't  you  have  some  ambition  and  go  to  the 
Academy  and  save  your  money  and  keep  out  of  bad  com- 
pany and  cut  the  hair  on  the  back  of  your  neck  and  sit 
up  straight  and  eat  with  your  fork  and  make  your  ears 
lie  flat  and  use  less  profanity  ?  " 

Good  Lord,  didn't  old  Es  want  a  fellow  to  have  any 
fun?  Ruth  fussed,  but  after  all  she  could  always  be 
kept  pleased  if  you  remembered  to  whop  the  pious  cal- 
endar she'd  put  foot  of  the  bed. 

Jefferson  had  a  pretty  good  time  at  Natupski's,  being 
foul-mouthed  to  his  heart's  content  and  smoking  more 
than  was  good  for  him.  Marinka  sat  very  close  and  on 
the  last  evening  of  the  fourteen  her  father  referred  to 
Jefferson  as  "  Your  boy  "  in  a  way  that  made  the  girl 
think  she  was  formally  engaged. 

Then  Esther  went  back  to  Yonkers  and  Jefferson  told 
Marinka  it  was  too  far  to  walk  and  he  was  going  home  to 
pound  his  ear.  It  seemed  to  him  a  good  enough  excuse, 
but  he  was  not  dealing  with  an  American  father.  The 
very  next  evening  Kani  Natupski  invited  him  down  from 
the  driver's  seat  and  the  following  conversation  took 
place : 

"  You  like  Marinka  ?  Yes.  Marinka  think  you  one 
grand  boy?  Sure.  Marinka  and  you  both  get  married 
each  together?    Say  when." 

Jefferson  gasped  like  a  fish  suddenly  taken  from  its 
native  element,  and  muttered,  "  Oh — yes — she's  one  dam' 
fine  girl — but  I  can't  get  married  now.  I  ain't  old 
enough.  And  my  folks  only  give  me  a  dollar  a  week  and 
it  goes  for  fine-cut.  So  I  ain't  fixed  to  get  married. 
Honest,  Mr.  Natupski,  I  ain't." 

"  Tha's  all  right,"  beamed  Natupski.     "  Marinka  one 


264  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

dam'  girl.  Sure."  (He  was  perchance  musing  on  a 
recent  stormy  scene  wherein  his  daughter  had  declared 
with  great  spirit  that  she  wouldn't  husk  corn  if  she  died 
alive;  and  her  father  had  sworn,  with  equal  fervor,  that 
she  would  either  husk  corn  or  see  her  father  kill  himself 
making  her.  Whereat  marriage  had  been  suggested  as  a 
compromise.)  "  How,"  Natupski  went  on,  "next  week 
Wednesday?  " 

"  I  can't,"  moaned  the  distressed  youth.  "  Father 
wouldn't  let  me.    And  I  ain't  no  new  suit." 

"  Mebbe  Saturday  better.    Sunday  day  off." 

"  Hell ! "  roared  Jefferson.  "  I  say  it  can't  be 
done." 

"  Goo'  by,"  said  Mr.  Natupski,  turning  toward  the 
house.     "  Me  tell  Marinka.     She  real  tickled." 

Jefferson  whipped  the  horse  away.  He  almost  made 
up  his  mind  to  go  braking.  Still,  Marinka's  vision  had 
power. 

Saturday  he  went  early  on  the  route.  By  nine  o'clock 
he  was  stepping  softly  across  the  fields  to  the  secret 
solemnizing  of  his  own  nuptials. 

With  the  Donahues  they  drove  to  Mifflin  Grove,  where 
they  were  made  one.  Afterward  a  delightful  supper  of 
ice-cream,  cake,  and  lager  beer  was  enjoyed  at  a  Polish 
restaurant.  Then  came  the  drive  home.  Everybody  was 
pretty  gay — everybody  but  Jefferson.  He  began  to 
wonder  what  Ruth  would  do  if  she  didn't  find  him  in 
bed  as  Henry  drove  to  the  barn  at  eight.  Putting  the 
sleepy  Marinka  forcibly  into  the  arms  of  the  drowsy 
'Statia  he  mumbled,  "  See  you  tomorrow,"  slid  over  the 
wheel,  and  was  lost  in  the  darkness. 

"  Darn  his  pictur,"  said  Tommy  Donahue,  and  then 


A  'MERICAN  MARRIAGE  265 

began  to  laugh.    "  Anyhow,  kid,  you  got  your  marriage 
lines?" 

"  You  bet  you,"  whispered  Marinka,  and  clasped  them 
in  hands  which  she  felt  were  now  in  no  danger  of  grow- 
ing callous  at  a  cruel  father's  bidding. 

Incredible  as  it  may  seem,  Jefferson  actually  turned 
over  his  paltry  dollar  a  week  to  his  wife,  depending  on 
wheedlings  of  Ruth  for  his  own  pocket  money!  All 
would  have  gone  well  if  the  minx  had  promptly  given  this 
to  papa,  it  being  more  than  adequate  for  any  board 
obtainable  under  his  roof,  but  she  must  needs  squander  it 
for  silk  hosiery  and  a  hat  trimmed  with  most  marabou. 

One  October  afternoon  Kani  Natupski  looked  about 
and  found  the  single  drone  in  his  hive  of  industry,  sitting 
indoors,  warming  herself  by  a  fire.  The  rest  warmed 
themselves  with  work,  Marinka  must  make  a  fire.  To 
be  sure  it  was  only  corncobs,  of  which  bushels  littered 
the  yard,  but  it  was  contrary  to  any  Natupski  principle 
to  have  an  October  fire  when  you  weren't  cooking  any-  , 
thing.  He  entered  abruptly.  Marinka  had  elevated  her 
feet  to  the  back  of  a  chair,  the  better  to  admire  pink 
silk  legs.  Kani  gave  a  jerk  both  to  that  chair  and  the 
broken  one  in  which  his  daughter  sat.  Abruptly  she  as- 
sumed a  perpendicular  position. 

"  Up  and  cook  supper  while  she  burns !  "  he  shouted. 

"  It  ain't  only  three,"  said  Marinka.  "  We  never  eats 
till  seven." 

"  What  for  if  we  don't?  Cook  it  while  a  fire  you  got. 
There'll  be  no  more." 

He  flung  the  cobs,  basket  and  all,  down  the  cellarway. 

Marinka  began  to  cry. 

"  Shut  up!  "  snarled  her  father. 


266  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

"  Tatulo,  I'm  cold." 

Kani  Natupski  liked  to  be  addressed  by  the  Polish 
term  for  father,  but  now  he  was  beyond  wheedling. 

"Where's  some  money?"  he  demanded.  "He  give 
you  some  last  night." 

"  Only  a  dollar.    I  sent  it  in  a  envelope-letter." 

"What  after?" 

"  A — a  real  imitation  diamond  hair  comb,"  she  blub- 
bered. 

Kani  falling  into  greater  rage,  Marinka  got  right  up, 
packed  her  small  wedding  fineries,  and  departed  while 
still  a  wisp  of  smoke  hung  over  the  chimney. 

Now  imagine  the  scene  in  that  Colonial  mansion  when 
Marinka  neared  the  south  door.  It  was  late  afternoon, 
the  sun  was  westering  and  lay  in  long  rays  on  the  tessel- 
ated  hall,  thence  streaming  into  the  small  room  where 
Ruth  Browne  sat  making  out  milk  bills.  There  was  oil- 
cloth on  the  floor,  giving  shining  evidence  of  being 
washed  daily  with  milk  and  water.  On  the  south  wall 
ticked  a  banjo  clock.  Under  it,  in  a  Windsor  chair, 
slumbered  old  Tom,  with  nine  years  and  thirty-two  toes 
to  his  credit.  Ruth  wore  a  plain  dress  of  blue  serge 
covered  by  a  gingham  apron.  Her  hair  was  smoothly 
braided  and  wound  about  her  head.  On  her  feet  were 
ribbed  stockings  and  ugly,  expensive  shoes  minus  heels. 
Jefferson  was  at  the  barn  collecting  cans,  W.  Henry  Har- 
rison slept  in  bed,  and  G.  W.  greased  the  delivery  cart. 

A  poor  outlook  for  a  bride  in  search  of  leisure.  Ruth 
looked  up  when  a  shadow  fell  across  the  ledger.  Marinka 
had  walked  right  in,  as  a  son's  wife  should. 

"  Me  and  Jeff  was  married  six  weeks  ago,"  she  said. 
"  I'm  come  to  stay." 


A  'MERICAN  MARRIAGE  267 

Ruth  marked  the  moment  by  the  one  ledger  blot  of  her 
existence,  and  went  upstairs  to  wake  W.  Henry  Harrison. 

That  somnolent  individual  being  the  prime  mover  in 
the  family,  he  decided  that  the  young  couple  must  be  set 
up  housekeeping — say  in  father's  old  house — and  given 
enough  to  live  on — say,  ten  dollars  a  week.  Only  Jef- 
ferson must  work  for  the  money.  No  more  sleeping 
until  eight  o'  mornings. 

It  is  difficult  to  tell  the  feelings  of  Marinka  when  she 
found  herself  installed  in  the  very  doorstepless  house  that 
had  roused  her  scorn. 

Jefferson  was  grateful  for  the  matter-of-fact  way  in 
which  his  escapade  was  regarded,  and  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life  felt  respect  for  W.  Henry  Harrison  and  senti- 
ment for  Ruth. 

"  Guess  this  is  bad,"  he  would  chuckle,  grabbing  Ma- 
rinka by  the  waist  and  chucking  her  to  the  ceiling  a  couple 
of  times,  such  boisterousness  being  his  idea  of  making 
love. 

Marinka  could  not  cook,  of  course,  and  she  would  not, 
even  after  'Statia  came  over  and  showed  her  how.  They 
lived  largely  on  those  convenient  foods  which  come  in 
cardboard  packages  with  a  waxed  paper  inner  wrapping. 

If,  as  often  at  first,  she  dressed  up  and  made  a  visit 
to  the  big  house,  longing  to  play  fine  lady  in  the  red- 
carpeted  parlor,  she  was  sure  to  find  it  a  day  on  which 
they  thought  she  should  be  at  home. 

"What — your  washing  out  so  early?  You  are 
smart ! "  observed  Ruth  the  first  time,  which  was  Mon- 
day. Ruth  was  up  to  the  elbows  in  suds,  and  set  Marinka 
to  stirring  starch  over  the  hot  stove.  The  next  visit 
was  Saturday,  when  she  was  supposed  to  be  baking,  and 


268  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

even  Thursday  was  sacred  to  mending  in  the  Browne 
calendar. 

Jefferson  became  obsessed  by  the  idea,  too.  "  Shall 
I  help  you  mix  bread  ?  "  he  would  ask,  like  a  boy  with  a 
new  toy,  so  anxious  was  he  to  screw  the  mixer  to  the 
table  edge.  Ruth  would  have  welcomed  such  domesticity, 
but  Marinka  did  wish  he  could  let  her  alone.  She  had 
planned  to  patronize  the  baker's  cart  when  it  passed  next 
day.  It  was  from  that  cart  she  obtained  the  sponge  cakes 
which  the  deluded  Jefferson  supposed  were  his  'Rinka's 
own  productions.  And,  oh,  the  subterfuges  she  was 
put  to  when  he  asked  for  them  on  days  that  the  baker 
wasn't  due! 

One  afternoon  Jefferson,  going  from  his  father's  house 
to  his  home,  met  the  baker. 

"  Here's  the  order  your  wife  was  in  such  a  stew  about," 
said  that  worthy.  "  'F  you'll  take  it  'twill  save  me  driv- 
ing that  fur." 

Jeff  accepted  the  loosely-wrapped  parcel,  and  walked 
on.  A  November  wind  fluttered  the  paper,  and  he  saw 
what  he  was  carrying.  A  sponge  cake!  He  banged  it 
so  hard  on  the  kitchen  table  that  it  fell  in  crumbs. 

"  They  all  said  I'd  married  a  slack-twisted  runagate," 
he  muttered,  bitterly,  "  but  I  didn't  know  you  was  a  liar 
as  well.  And  me  around  bragging  that  even  if  you 
couldn't  boil  water  without  burning  it,  you  could  make 
sponge  cake!  I  can  stand  a  good  deal,  but,  by  God,  I 
won't  stand  being  made  a  fool  of." 

And,  turning,  he  went  supperless  to  his  evening  task 
of  milk  collecting. 

Marinka  had  imagined  she  did  not  feel  very  well  that 
day,  but  she  was  able  to  pack  her  clothes  and  the  best 


A  'MERICAN  MARRIAGE  269 

of  the  spoons,  and  get  to  'Statia's  before  dark.  The 
Donahues  were  but  slightly  sympathetic,  and  evidently 
anxious  to  avoid  responsibility.  Tommy  hitched  up  and 
drove  her  to  the  Natupski  house  at  once.  'Statia  gave 
advice. 

"If  he  is  like  you  say,  and  scare  you,  then  tell  papa 
straight  off  no  shinnaniganing.  Have  papa  get  a  lawyer 
and  sue  for  separate  s'port." 

"  What's  that?  "  asked  Marinka. 

When  they  told  her  she  cheered  up.  "  I  get  a  set 
furs,"  gleed  the  deserting  wife.  She  was  forever  for- 
getting her  cruel  father's  cruelty,  but  Kani  had  not  for- 
given that  October  blaze  set  for  the  warming  of  pink 
silk  stockings.  He  met  her  at  the  door,  inserted  her 
violently  into  the  family  circle  now  kitchen  assembled, 
and  roared,  "  Mamma,  give  'Rinka  'tato  sack  apron.  She 
in  just  time  to  cut  sausage  meat." 

The  place  reeked  with  raw  pork,  which  Kani  was 
having  prepared  for  a  profitable  market.  Poor  Marinka, 
then  she  ought  to  have  regretted  the  too  hasty  leaving  of 
her  new  kitchen  and  dainty  bedroom.  At  any  rate,  the 
sight  and  smell  of  so  much  blood  made  her  deathly  sick 
and  she  fell  into  that  same  broken  rocker  in  a  faint. 
Kani,  suspecting  malingering,  caught  her  roughly  by  the 
shoulder,  but  his  experienced  wife  motioned  him  away 
with  a  grin.  He  was  but  a  fool  man,  she  said.  Could 
he  not  see  he  was  in  a  way  to  become  a  grandfather  ? 

11  Dam' !  "  bleated  Mr.  Natupski  and  staggered  out. 
He  supposed  now  she  must  be  left  to  her  mother. 

So  there  came  a  fine  day  in  June,  which  Kani  wel- 
comed largely  because  it  brought  an  end  to  Marinka's 
immunity  from  toil. 


270  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

In  the  meantime  she  made  a  terrible  fuss.  Even 
'Statia,  who  followed  the  American  fashion  of  no  baby, 
agreed  to  that.  Marinka  moaned  and  implored  the 
family  to  "  kill  whatever  it  was  quick  "  for  so  long  that 
a  doctor  was  called — the  first  time  one  had  been  at  Natup- 
ski's  for  childbirth.  He  declared  the  girl  had  gone  flabby 
and  must  be  made  to  exercise.  'Statia  and  Mrs.  Natupski 
walked  her  up  and  down  till  they  were  worn  out.  Kani, 
herding  the  little  children  downstairs,  felt  a  slight  vindi- 
cation. He  knew  she  had  refused  to  move  many  a  time 
just  to  anger  him. 

"  Supper  ready,  M'rinka,"  he  had  growled,  and  she 
had  drawled  back,  "  Oh,  I'm  too  miserable  to  come  down. 
Let  the  kids  bring  me  something  nice  up."  Well,  she 
was  paying  for  it — paying  with  much  suffering,  if  he 
was  a  judge. 

'Statia  finally  lost  her  temper.  "  For  goodness,"  she 
said,  "  don't  be  so  howlful.  Think  of  all  the  little  babies 
mamma  borned." 

"  I  am  a-thinking,"  sobbed  Marinka.  "  It  makes  me 
the  worse  every  one  I  think  of." 

Finally  the  crisis  passed  and  Marinka  lay  on  the 
(reasonably)  white  pillows,  the  mother  of  twins — both 
boys.    Even  Kani  was  interested. 

"  You  never  done  nothing  so  much,"  he  grinned  at 
grandmother  Marinki. 

It  being  necessary  to  feed  and  clothe  twins,  Jefferson 
Browne  was  called  into  court  and  ordered  to  give  half  his 
earnings  to  his  wife.  Lest  Jefferson  forget  his  duties, 
W.  Henry  Harrison  Browne  sent  the  sum  weekly  to  the 
Natupski  home.  And  naughty  Marinka  waited  till  she 
had  accumulated  eighteen  dollars  and  bought  a  lace 


A  'MERICAN  MARRIAGE  271 

dress  and  a  green  parasol.  Unwise  Marinka.  Her 
parent,  having  learned  the  way  to  the  county  seat, 
stormed  over  so  imperiously  that  the  selectmen  of  Holly, 
headed  by  G.  W.  Browne  himself,  drove  to  Natupski's 
and  removed  the  twins. 

"  The  father'll  take  care  of  'em,"  said  G.  W.,  after 
learning  that  his  daughter-in-law  was  exhibiting  her 
finery  at  Silver  Lake. 

The  babies  had  already  been  christened  Josef  and 
Alexander,  the  elder  Natupskis  considering  these  a  neat 
balance  of  claims  between  old  Poland  and  new  America. 
On  the  Sunday  following  their  removal  to  the  Browne 
mansion  they  were  taken  to  the  West  Holly  Methodist 
meeting-house  and  came  forth  Woodrow  Wilson 
Browne  and  Grover  Cleveland  Browne.  The  Natupskis 
were  angry,  Kani  principally  because  he  hadn't  thought 
of  naming  after  presidents. 

Jefferson  looked  with  an  awful  fear  at  the  two  pink 
objects  of  his  creation,  but  it  was  Ruth  who  snuggled 
the  little  ones,  fed  them  according  to  wired  advice  from 
experienced  mothers,  sat  up  nights  with  them,  washed 
their  linen  when  she  was  so  tired  she  wanted  to  cry. 
Sleeping  at  opposite  ends  of  an  oval  clothes  basket, 
propped  on  chairs  beside  Ruth,  they  gurgled  aid  in 
making  out  milk  bills,  and  clients  noted  an  unusual 
output  of  joyous  poesy  on  the  part  of  the  maiden  aunt. 
Still  her  cares  were  greatly  increased  by  the  existence 
of  the  marplots,  she  being  of  those  who  know  not  sub- 
stitution when  duties  are  concerned,  but  only  addi- 
tion. 

In  the  meantime  Mr.  Natupski  was  too  worried  for 
discussing  a  daughter's  affairs.     The  great  sow  threat- 


272  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

ened  a  litter,  and  that  was  something  worth  sitting  up 
nights  and  hiring  a  vet.  for. 

She  outdid  herself,  and  Mr.  Natupski  found  himself 
the  proud  possessor  of  twenty-two  little  pigs.  He  wouldn't 
have  taken  off  his  hat  that  day  to  President  Wilson, 
Paderewski,  or  Blanchard  Bowes  himself. 

All  very  gleeful,  but  how  were  twenty-two  infants  to 
be  fed  at  a  maternal  breast  with  accommodations  for 
thirteen?  Kani  Natupski  burst  into  a  room  where  his 
daughter  Marinka  sat  entirely  surrounded  by  pink  mus- 
lin. Her  occupation  appeared  to  be  earnest  contem- 
plation of  one  sleeve,  which  her  sister  'Statia  had  com- 
pleted and  pinned  to  the  wall  as  proof  that  the  paper 
pattern  was  practicable. 

"  Now  sit  and  look  at  it  till  you  know  how  to 
make  the  mate,"  'Statia  had  said,  and  gone  home. 
There  was  every  indication  that  Marinka  would 
take  her  at  her  word,  if  she  sat  there  until  next 
spring. 

"Hey,  'Rinka,  you  got  some  bottle?"  demanded  her 
excited  papa. 

"What?" 

"  Some  bottle.  Baby  bottle.  Hurry  pretty  dam' 
quick." 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Marinka,  and  fell  to  idly  pleat- 
ing a  rosy  selvage. 

"  Well,  where  is  he  ?  Two  I  buyed  you.  Where  he 
gone  ?  " 

"  You  mean  the  twinses'  bottles  ?  Why,  Father 
Browne  took  them  with  little  Alec  and  Joe.  You  re- 
member— that  day  I  was  to  the  Park." 

Marinka    was    ostentatiously    American    with    her 


A  'MERICAN  MARRIAGE  273 

"  Father  Browne,"  even  if  equally  alert  to  call  her  babies 
only  by  the  results  of  their  Polish  naming. 

Her  languid  elegance  received  a  shock  the  next  mo- 
ment. She  found  herself  whirled  downstairs  and  de- 
posited in  the  Natupski  buggy,  to  which  Wajeiceh  was 
busily  attaching  the  fastest  Natupski  horse.  Soon 
Wajeiceh  was  in  the  driver's  seat,  fretting  like  a  jockey 
before  the  shot.  v 

"  Like  hell,"  was  the  father's  direction  to  the  boy. 
To  Marinka  he  hissed,  "  At  Browne's  you  talk  up.  Get 
what  is  yours." 

Then,  as  Mr.  Chick  once  advised,  he  went  to  see  if 
something  temporary  couldn't  be  done  with  a  teapot. 

Thus  Marinka  made  a  second  descent  upon  the  G.  W. 
Browne  Stock  Farm,  but  no  blot  ensued,  for  Ruth  was 
not  making  out  bills,  only  feeding  the  twins.  It  was 
fussy  business,  for  one  took  a  patent  food,  the  other  a 
diluted  condensed  milk.  The  maiden  aunt  presided  over 
a  large  tray  of  droppers  and  shining  bottles.  She  was 
better  prepared  for  shocks  than  she  had  been;  the  ad- 
vent of  Marinka,  still  trailing  a  breadth  of  rosy  muslin, 
only  caused  her  to  say  "  Sh ! "  and  beckon  the  young 
mother  into  the  next  room,  where  G.  W.  gloated  over  a 
new  relic. 

"  What  ?  "  said  the  old  man,  peevishly  returning  to 
the  present  from  an  entertaining  past  in  which  he  had 
already  been  much  disturbed  by  infantile  wails.  "  She 
wants  her  property  ?    Well,  let  her  take  it  and  go." 

Two  baskets  were  put  into  the  buggy  by  the  astonished 
Ruth.  One  jingled  all  the  way  and  its  glassy  rattle  joyed 
the  heart  of  Kani  Natupski.  Here  were  whole  dozens  of 
feeding  bottles.    Already  he  seemed  to  see  rows  of  super- 


4  -'•  ■ 


274  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

numerary  piggies  waxing  fat.  It  would  never  have  oc- 
curred to  any  but  an  American  grandfather  to  buy  out  a 
drugstore,  but  Poland  for  once  blessed  New-World  ex- 
travagance. 

"  Good.  Good  'Rinka,"  he  gleed,  giving  the  girl  praise 
for  the  first  time  in  her  small  life.  Then,  "  Other  basket 
—what  ?    More  bottle  ?  " 

The  other  basket  just  then  waked  to  sound,  and  it  be- 
came evident  that  Marinka  had  of  a  verity  fetched  back 
all  her  property.  Alexander  Woodrow  Wilson  bawled 
and  Josef  Grover  Cleveland  kicked.  Kani  Natupski 
looked  from  the  twenty-two  pigs  to  the  two  babies,  from 
the  matronly  sow  to  the  flippant  Marinka.  The  latter, 
well  frightened  at  the  unexpected  end  to  the  adventure, 
fell  to  her  knees  in  the  muck  and  begged  tatulo  not  to 
strike  her. 

"  I  didn't  go  to  do  it,  'deed  I  didn't,"  she  sobbed,  with 
truth,  for  the  food-sodden  little  ones  never  peeped,  and 
she  had  had  no  idea  what  she  was  bringing  home. 

Her  father  helped  her  up  with  boot  and  hand.  He 
took  that  strip  of  rose-hued  fabric,  tore  it  into  eleven 
ribbons,  attached  a  length  to  each  twin,  and  with  the 
other  bits  adorned  the  tails  of  nine  tiny  pigs. 

"  So  you  know  'em,"  he  snickered.  "  G'long  off.  Get 
on  to  youse  job." 

And  Marinka  did!  A  boy's  young  life  had  been 
marred,  a  lonely  woman  was  left  more  lonely,  an  ex- 
asperated court  would  presently  refuse  to  interfere  fur- 
ther in  Polish-American  matters,  but — there  was  this 
noble  result — Marinka  worked !  From  infant  to  infant 
of  the  eleven  she  skipped,  whenever — as  generally — each 
squealed  for  the  contents  of  its  bottle  at  the  instant  every 


A  'MERICAN  MARRIAGE  275 

other  one  was  seized  with  hunger-pangs.  Only  once 
came  a  hint  at  flagging,  when  Mr.  Natupski  revived  his 
daughter  by  a  serene  kick,  a  reminder  that  she  had 
brought  it  on  herself,  and  these  sweeter  words,  "  I  say 
wrong  long  'go,  'Rinka.  I  say  of  you  than  ole  sow  I  was 
less  proud.  Nie,  nie!  For  ole  sow,  this  instant  minute, 
she  but  tend  thirteen.  And  none  with  shirt.  Hist, 
'Rinka,  a  runt  lose  hold.  Nie,  foolisher,  not  snub  nose, 
snout.  'Member,  'Rinka,  when  all  holler  snub  nose  be 
put  off,  never  snout.  Snout  bring  cash-money  soon. 
Snub  nose  be  t'ree-four  year  'fore  he  pick  up  tato.  Me 
you  hear,  Rinka !  " 

Marinka  heard.     Marinka  did  as  she  was  told.     The 
Old  World  triumphed. 


VII 
LATHER  AND   FLOWERS 

"  Papa,"  said  Kazia,  "  would  you  be  willing  I  should 
ask  you  to  give  me  anything  I  want  ?  " 

"  No,"  bawled  her  father,  and  kept  right  on  with 
what  he  was  doing.  He  always  said  no  to  any  request 
made  by  a  female  member  of  the  family  so  automatically 
that  he  often  declined  an  invitation  to  his  own  supper. 
And  he  never  looked  up,  because  he  knew  they  were 
going  to  cry. 

Kazia  was  at  it  now.  He  could  hear  a  piteous  sniff- 
sniff  above  all  the  noise  he  was  making  by  aiming  a 
rack  at  the  ox-cart  and  failing  to  hit  the  mark.  It  was 
terrible  the  effect  this  America  had  on  womankind. 
Sometimes  Kani  almost  wished  he  had  stopped  in 
Poland. 

When  Kazia  had  cried  out  what  tears  she  could  squeeze 
she  rubbed  her  nose  on  the  top  of  her  stocking  and  said, 
as  if  in  sudden  discovery,  "  I'm  going  on  sixteen." 

"You  shut  up,  you,"  bleated  Kani,  and  resumed  the 
rack. 

Kazia  had  now  a  bright  idea.  She  took  hold  of  the 
other  side  and  with  her  strong  young  arms  guided  the 
clumsy  concern  over  the  stakes.  Kani  was  overcome  with 
admiration  and  expressed  it  quite  naturally. 

"  Dam'  hellion,  stand  there  all  day  and  don't  move. 

376 


LATHER  AND  FLOWERS  277 

Good  mind  to  lick  you  for  not  doing  so  to  help  your 
papa  before.    Well,  what  d'ye  want?  " 

Now  what  Kazia  did  want  was  a  wedding  outfit,  for, 
not  frightened  at  'Rinka's  stormy  career,  Kazia  had  em- 
barked on  her  own  romance,  and  only  lack  of  a  home 
and  wherewithal  to  support  it  separated  her  from  the 
lad  of  her  heart.  She  felt  her  moral  right  to  a  few 
clothes  and  agateware  pans,  but  dare  she  ask  for  what 
she  wanted  when  she  had  gone  through  all  three  Hollys 
and  Mifflin  Grove,  and  pinned  her  young  affections  on 
Nicholas  Kovinski,  Jr.  ? 

Wonderful  schemes  were  woven  by  the  young  couple, 
snuggling  in  fence  corners  on  summer  nights.  They 
would  pretend  to  be  in  need  of  funds  for  some  noble 
purpose,  then  elope  "  and  get  the  old  folks'  goats  fine  and 
dandy,"  said  Nick. 

Here  was  Kazia,  asked  by  her  father  what  she  wanted, 
and  with  no  more  impressive  manner  of  answering  than 
stammering  "  I — I — want  some  cash-money — to " 

Kani  yanked  a  chain  across  the  rack  and  said,  "  Cash- 
money  it  always  is.  For  clothes  always  for  dresses  and 
silk  stockings.  Well,  it  sha'n't  be.  For  clothes,  no. 
For  something  else,  maybe." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  want  things  to  wear,"  cried  Kazia, 
blindly  following  any  leading.  "  No.  Never  nothing 
like  that." 

"Well,  what?" 

"  I — I  want,"  she  stuttered,  looking  for  inspiration  in 
the  sky  above  and  the  mud  below,  "  I — I  want  to  go  to 
some  place  away  from  here.  I  want  not  to  live  here 
always.     I'm  going  on  sixteen." 

Kani    looked    gloomy.      "  Bet    yer,"    he    exclaimed. 


278  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

"  Bet  yer  that  was  how  it  would  be  when  you  made  that 
grand  graduation.  Mr.  Bowes  say  the  same.  You  bet 
yer,  Natupski,  he  say,  such  a  fine  girl  she  is  won't  stay 
long  to  West  Holly.  Well,  all  ri'.  Go  it.  Go  to  Mr. 
Farrar's  right  now.  Give  name  and  ask  what  cash 
money  is  for  carrying  to  trolley.  Tell  him  your  papa  do 
it  for  twenty-five  cent  less.    You  can  walk  most  times." 

This  needs  explanation.  Holly  maintained  no  High 
School,  but  "  farmed  out "  its  scholars  at  Mifflin  Grove. 
Kani  Natupski  proposed  to  underbid  the  price  allowed  by 
the  town  for  taking  a  pupil  from  home  to  the  trolley,  and 
then  to  make  that  pupil  walk. 

Kazia  understood  this,  but  what  struck  special  horror 
to  her  soul  was  the  ghastly  fact  that  he  was  going  to 
send  her  to  High  School! 

At  a  tryst  with  Nick  she  sobbed  the  awful  news  into  his 
mercerized  shirt  sleeve,  which  was  embroidered  with  a 
pink  silk  "  N,"  for  Olka  Kovinski  was  right  up  to  date 
in  dressing  her  son.  Perhaps  that  was  one  reason  why 
Kazia  loved  him  so  dreadfully.  Nifty  clothes — even 
ordinarily  clean  ones — had  an  amazing  attraction  for  any 
young  person  condemned  to  the  Natupski  way  of  living. 

"  Oh,  Nicky,"  she  wailed,  "  he's  going  to  send  me  to 
High  School.    I  wish  I  was  dead  this  minute." 

Nick  said,  "  Suffering  mush,  that  balls  things  up." 

"  Don't  it  ?  I  told  him  I  didn't  want  to  live  forever  in 
West  Holly,  and  he  told  me  I  could  go  to  High  School 
quicker  'n  anything.  I'd  never  have  believed  it.  No- 
body never  would.  He  licked  everybody  when  Stanis- 
larni  went  to  college  so  we  couldn't  lie  down  easy  for  a 
week.  And  it  takes  four  years  to  get  through  it.  Oh, 
Nicky,  I  shall  die." 


LATHER  AND  FLOWERS  279 

"  If  I  had  ten  dollars  we'd  go  to  Boston,"  said  the 
valiant  Nick,  "  and  let  'em  rave.  If  I  had  five  dollars 
we'd  go  to  Lansing." 

"How  much  have  you  got?"  asked  the  practical 
Kazia. 

He  had  forty  cents,  which  wasn't  much  toward  house- 
keeping. So  he  planned  to  meet  her  the  next  day  quite 
accidentally  at  a  movie  show  in  Mifflin  Grove.  Kazia 
got  there  while  her  papa  supposed  she  was  still  being 
interrogated  by  the  school  board,  and  they  were  able  to 
enjoy  an  ecstatic  period  of  hand-holding  throughout  the 
"  Perils  of  Pauline."  She  sadly  related  the  particulars  of 
the  interview  with  Mr.  Committeeman  Farrar. 

"  He  said  he  was  awful  glad  'cause  West  Holly  hadn't 
had  a  High  Schooler  for  as  much  as  years.  Said  I  was  a 
good  shame  on  American  girls.  And  he  gave  me  a  paper 
so  I  needn't  be  examined.  And  I  was  hoping  I'd  be 
thrown  out.     Oh,  I  shall  die." 

"  When  you're  dead  it's  a  long  time,"  said  Nick.  "  I 
got  a  plan." 

She  thought  it  was  for  eloping  on  the  spot,  but  it  was 
nothing  more  thrilling  than  this — he  too  would  go  to 
High  School! 

In  the  meantime  the  fact  that  Kazia  Natupski  was 
going  to  High  School  set  West  Holly  into  a  ferment. 
Some  said  it  was  a  direct  result  of  Stanislarni's  going  to 
college.  Others  put  it  down  to  worthy  initiative  on  the 
part  of  the  girl,  in  the  face  of  home  opposition.  Mrs. 
Sabrina  Perkins  thought  it  a  triumph  for  suffrage.  Mrs. 
Blanchard  Bowes  consulted  Mrs.  Abner  Slocumb  as  to 
whether  the  girl  had  anything  to  wear. 

bo  "  This  is  what  I'd  suggest,  Kazy  dear,"  said  the 


280  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

kindly  Nancy,  emphasizing  each  item  by  a  thimble  tap 
on  the  fence  dividing  Natupski's  barren  dooryard  from 
Slocumb's  mossy  lawn,  "  half  a  dozen  middies,  at  perhaps 
ninety-eight  cents  each,  and  you  can  wash  'em  yourself 
come  Saturday.  No  starch,  which  is  a  terrible  advantage 
with  a  meddlesome  baby  underfoot,  as  there  always  is  to 
your  house.  Many  a  child  I've  known  thrown  into  con- 
vulsions through  drinking  hot  starch  for  pudden.  A 
plain  serge  skirt  to  accommodate  'em  all.  Whenever 
your  pa  feels  free  to  give  you  the  money  I'll  have  Mr. 
Slocumb  hitch  up  and  drive  us  to  the  car.  I  can  go  with 
you  well's  not,  and  if  I  couldn't  I'd  take  the  time  because 
I  want  to  see  you  started  right.  You're  a  smart  girl, 
Kazy,  and  we're  all  bound  to  be  proud  of  you  yet,  I 
guess." 

And  Kazia  murmured  "  Yes'm,"  with  despair  in  her 
heart. 

Mr.  Natupski  glowered,  but  in  time  reconciled  himself 
to  the  extent  of  passing  out  a  few  dollars.  The  subse- 
quent orgy  of  shopping  had  no  joy  for  Kazia.  What 
were  the  fabrics  of  Mifflin  to  one  who  lived  only  with 
her  cheek  snuggled  against  a  Waterbury  watch  in  the 
pocket  of  a  fancy  waistcoat?  If  it  might  have  been  a 
wedding  dress,  now 

The  things  were  displayed  on  a  clean  sheet  spread  over 
the  Natupskis'  kitchen  table.  Mrs.  Natupski  grinned. 
This  was  her  girl;  she  was  tickled  that  Kani  was  doing 
for  Kazia  more  than  he  had  done  for  'Statia,  the  other 
woman's  child.  'Rinka  thought  they  were  pretty,  but 
"  Not  so  fancy.  Why  didn't  you  get  something  fancier, 
with  nearsilk  stockings?  But  I  s'pose  Mrs.  Slocumb 
wouldn't  let  you.    Not  that  she's  got  any  taste.    Always 


LATHER  AND  FLOWERS  281 

looks  like  the  back  of  a  hack,  she  does."  Novia  wist- 
fully fingered  the  soft  lisle  and  said,  "  You're  awful 
happy,  ain't  you,  Kazia?"  And  Kazia  gave  Novia  a 
push  and  replied,  "  I  wish  they  was  all  at  the  bottom  of 
the  river.    And  I  wish  I  was  dead." 

Nevertheless  there  was  compensation  when  she  made 
her  trolley  debut  on  a  crisp  September  day,  wearing  the 
blouse  with  red  hip  lacings  and  tie.  This  was  very  be- 
coming to  the  brown  complexion  resultant  from  a  sum- 
mer at  berry-picking.  Nick  whispered,  "  Say,  you're  a 
picture,  you  ar<e." 

After  a  month  the  fact  that  young  Nick  Kovinski 
was  attending  school  in  Mifflin  leaked  into  West  Holly. 

"  Too  bad,"  said  Kani.  "  Me  you  hear,  Kazik.  If 
he  dares  look  to  you   spit  his  way." 

His  daughter  was  that  instant  thrilling  in  memory  of 
the  hand  squeeze  exchanged  when  Nick  helped  her  off 
the  car.  It  was  safe  enough  to  let  him  do  this,  because 
no  Natupski  horse  was  ever  driven  all  the  way  to  meet 
Kazia. 

"  The  very  devil's  in  it,"  Kazia  told  herself,  in  the 
augmented  vocabulary  acquired  from  associating  with 
real  nice  girls  in  a  Greek  Letter  sorority.  "  Never  tried 
half  a  try  and  here  I  am  class  secretary  and  in  line  for 
Gawd  knows  what." 

"  That  was  a  clever  little  girl  you  sent  to  us  from 
West  Holly,"  the  assistant  principal  of  the  Mifflin  High 
School  said  to  the  head  of  the  Holly  school  board.  "If 
you  have  any  more  such  district  school  products  we'll 
give  them  welcome." 

The  school  board  head  said  he  heard  from  the  West 
Holly  teacher  that   few  could  equal   Kazia  Natupski. 


282  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

"  It's  ambition,  sheer  ambition,  that  has  made  that  girl 
what  she  is,"  he  continued.  "  You  know  how  keen  the 
bright  ones  among  those  foreigners  are  to  get  away  from 
their  environment." 

In  the  meantime  Kazia  certainly  felt  drawn  away 
from  her  school  environment,  even  while  she  sat  at  her 
desk  and  answered  (quite  correctly)  the  questions  fired 
at  her  by  well-dressed  and  refined  teachers.  This  Kazia 
Natupski  was  a  strange  girl.  The  real  Kazia  ought  to  be 
bargaining  for  her  husband's  tobacco  in  a  Polish  grocery 
down  by  the  jute  mill. 

"Why,  Kazia,  where  are  all  your  neat  clothes?" 
asked  Mrs.  Bowes,  nipping  into  the  Natupski  yard  a  few 
weeks  after  school  ended.  She  was  accompanied  by  a 
stern  female,  a  stranger  to  West  Holly,  but  well  known 
in  Holly  Centre  as  the-woman-who-comes-here-summers. 

Kazia  had  gleefully  shucked  all  evidences  of  High 
School  life,  and  was  clad  in  shapeless  garments  of  sack- 
ing. 

"  Whatever  you  may  think,"  said  Mrs.  Bowes  in  a 
rapid  aside,  "  she's  a  smart  scholar  and  will  well  repay 
any  effort  made  to  help  her.  Nothing  flighty  about  her, 
either,  as  there  was  about  her  two  elder  sisters.  Both 
went  boy-crazy  when  they  were  her  age,  and  married. 
That's  Marinka's  twin  she's  tending  now."  Then  turn- 
ing to  Kazia,  "  My  dear  girl,"  she  cooed,  "  your  faithful 
industry  at  school  has  not  been  unnoticed.  Now  you  are 
to  have  a  reward.  Mr.  Farrar  has  told  your  father,  and 
he  consents.  This  lady,  Mrs.  Tweed,  lives  in  Eastfield. 
You  are  going  to  live  with  her  and  go  to  Normal." 

Kazia  put  up  a  hand  as  if  to  defend  herself  from  a 
blow. 


LATHER  AND  FLOWERS  283 

"  Dazed  with  joy,"  one  lady  told  another.  "  Let  us 
leave  it  to  sink  in.     See  you  again,  dear  girl." 

Behold  Miss  Kazia  Natupski  sitting  down  to  her 
first  meal  in  the  home  of  Professor  and  Mrs.  Tweed  at 
Eastfield.  Having  arrived  the  night  before  the  meal  is 
breakfast.  The  Tweeds  are  poor  and  have  furnished 
their  house  entirely  with  books  and  old  china.  Kazia 
had  laid  her  head,  for  the  first  time,  on  a  pillow  slip  of 
smooth  linen.  Rising  she  had  been  confronted  by  a  real 
bathroom.  So  met  she  did  something  not  always  cus- 
tomary with  her,  and  washed  behind  her  ears.  Later, 
when  she  learned  what  was  really  expected  of  one  in  a 
bathroom,  she  would  run  the  water  with  loud  splashings ; 
and  toward  February  she  might  venture  on  an  occasional 
bath. 

This  morning  Mrs.  Tweed  brought  in  the  breakfast, 
which  consisted  wholly  of  a  dish  of  mush.  Kazia  Natup- 
ski thought  it  a  very  good  breakfast,  and  was  much  sur- 
prised when  an  omelette  followed,  with  toast  and  coffee. 
She  wondered  if  this  was  the  way  the  Kovinskis  lived, 
with  butter-spreaders  at  each  plate,  and  clean  napkins. 
Her  Nick  ordered  the  waiter  girls  about  in  so  lordly  a 
manner  when  he  took  her  to  the  Mifflin  ice-cream  parlors 
that  Kazia  could  not  believe  any  refinement  of  life  beyond 
him.  Perhaps  living  with  the  Tweeds  would  pay,  in 
making  her  more  worthy  of  Nick.  Only  why  was  it 
necessary  to  fuss  with  the  Normal  School? 

Her  ideals  improved,  working  from  the  outside  in. 
She  didn't  know  they  were  ideals,  she  thought  they  were 
Kovinski  requirements.  She  shuddered  when  she  remem- 
bered how  she  had  attended  the  Mifflin  High — clean 
blouse  and  skirt  outside,  and  rags  sewed  on  for  the  winter 


284  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

underneath.  In  time  she  changed  as  often  as  Mrs.  Tweed 
herself,  and  cheerfully  employed  her  Saturdays  doing  out 
her  things  in  Mrs.  Tweed's  prim  kitchen.  Her  future 
home,  too,  underwent  metamorphoses,  as  her  taste  im- 
proved. When  she  had  been  in  Eastfield  a  year  she  was 
picturing  herself  in  a  gingham  gown  and  long  white 
apron,  looking  out  of  a  casement  in  a  frame  of  scrim 
"  Dutch  cut "  above  a  row  of  scarlet  geraniums  eternally 
in  full  bloom.  Nick  was  coming  up  the  path  at 
the  sunset  hour,  with  a  bit  of  a  new  moon  over 
his  shoulder. 

And  now  came  the  great  day  when  Kazia  sent  Nick 
a  postal  card  bearing  words  "  The  Same."  It  meant 
she  would  stand  at  the  corner  of  Walnut  and  Greenock 
Streets,  in  front  of  the  Baltimore  Lunch,  at  2:30  p.m. 
the  following  Saturday. 

Alighting  from  the  Eastfield  car  Kazia  took  her  stand 
at  the  trysting  place.  She  was  rather  too  early,  and  in  a 
few  moments  became  aware  that  her  situation  was  not 
a  happy  one.    Rude  people  stared  and  jostled. 

A  flash  youth  drew  near.  He  had  bad  shoes  and  a 
hat  like  an  unkempt  green  plush  kitten.  Kazia  had  a 
moment  in  which  to  realize  his  necktie — yellow  hand 
crochet,  she  made  it  herself  in  High  School — when  he 
stopped  and  exploded,  "  Well,  kiddo,  how's  tricks  ?  " 

It  was  Nick,  with  the  charm  of  voice  and  lazy  grace 
that  first  won  Kazia.  They  still  had  power.  She  forgot 
the  possibility  of  meeting  Eastfield  people,  allowed  him  to 
take  her  elbow  in  a  masterful  grasp  and  steer  her  into  a 
restaurant. 

Nick  ordered  dinner  a  la  carte,  when  he  didn't  mean 
that  at  all,  but  it  cost  a  quarter  and  included  pie  and 


LATHER  AND  FLOWERS  285 

coffee,  so  it  must  be  worth  the  money.  The  napkins  were 
the  color  of  the  beverage  and  inscribed  "  Stole  from  the 
Welton  Lunch  "  in  red  chain  stitch.  Nick  stole  his  and 
informed  Kazia  it  made  up  a  dozen  "  for  going  to  house- 
keep  with." 

"  There,"  said  he,  "  now  we've  fed  our  faces,  where 
next?" 

Kazia  suggested  a  walk  in  the  park.  It  was  the  sunset 
hour,  the  sky  was  flecked  with  tiny  pink  clouds  like  rosy 
feathers  shed  from  the  wings  of  cupids. 

"  Nix,"  said  Nick.  "  I've  just  been  marking  time.  I 
got  a  dandy  plan.  Listen !  I'm  going  to  take  you  home. 
You  and  mamma  got  to  be  pals." 

Kazia's  heart  stopped  beating.  "  Does  your  mamma — 
suspect?  "  she  gasped.  She  should  have  put  on  her  best 
underclothing!  Only  the  moral  support  of  a  handmade 
camisole  with  real  Mechlin  edgings  could  brace  one  for  a 
thing  like  this. 

"  Sure.  I  told  her.  That  is,  I  told  her  I  was  going  to 
be  married.  When  she  begins  talking  about  Mamie  Top- 
floor  I  says  I  has  a  steady.  Didn't  say  your  monaker  was 
Natupski.    'Twasn't  necessary." 

The  Kovinskis  now  lived  in  Mifflin  Grove,  not  far  from 
the  mill,  where  father  and  son  worked,  but  too  far  for 
any  confusion  with  tenements  on  the  corporation. 

The  vestibule  was  done  in  a  kind  of  fancy  oilcloth  that 
imitated  marble,  and  Mrs.  Kovinski  had  ever  a  damp 
cloth  ready  to  wipe  off  the  indecent  scribblings  of  neigh- 
borhood youngsters.  Kazia  was  allowed  but  a  moment  to 
take  in  this  grandeur.  Nick  used  a  latchkey  and  she 
was  left  to  tremble  in  the  parlor  while  he  sought  his 
mother  in  another  part  of  the  flat 


286  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

How  beautiful  she  would  have  thought  it  had  she  been 
debouched  therein  direct  from  papa's  house  in  West 
Holly.  The  carpet  was  red,  with  a  border.  The  walls 
were  blue,  with  a  cut-out  frieze.  Nobody  could  count 
the  colors  in  the  glass  dome  over  the  electric  light.  Under 
it  the  center  table  displayed  so  realistic  a  leather  scarf  that 
one  could  trace  the  shape  of  the  denuded  calf's  legs  in  the 
dangling  corners.  There  were  books  in  the  room,  too : 
all  of  Laura  Jean  Libbey  and  much  of  Albert  Ross. 
The  concertina,  once  constant  companion  of  the  elder 
Nick  Kovinski,  had  been  replaced  by  a  Victrola.  The 
Kovinskis  were  right  up  to  date. 

Mrs.  Kovinski — Olka,  who  had  considered  herself  a 
Natupski — simpered  into  the  room,  bringing  an  impres- 
sion of  hair  dye  and  tight  corsets.  Kazia  saw  her  nails. 
They  were  black. 

Throwing  herself  at  a  platform  rocker  in  crushed 
plush,  she  began  to  tilt  and  talk. 

"  Nicky,  darling,  go  open  some  beer.  How  do  you 
do?  I  was  sure  surprised  when  Nicky  tells  me  and  his 
papa  he  is  got  a  steady.  We  was  thinking  of  a  Miss 
Leary,  top  floor.  But  of  course  he  has  it  like  he  wants, 
same's  he  always  has.  It's  on  the  fire  escape,  Nicky. 
Push  the  cat  off  careful  if  she  is  put  her  kitten  in  a 
empty.  That  little  cat,  she  gets  all  places.  Would  you 
believe  it,  my  dear,  Nicky's  papa  can't  cut  off  a  slice 
cheese  sometimes  because  she  must  have  it  for  a  bed? 
Nicky,  the  opener  is  in  the  dish  towel  drawer,  or  maybe 
it  ain't.  Well,  my  dear,  Nicky  don't  tell  me  nothing 
about  you.    Do  you  work  out?  " 

Kazia  did  not  need  to  reply,  because  Nick  entered,  bear- 
ing perspiring  bottles,  also  three  red  and  white  tumblers 


LATHER  AND  FLOWERS  287 

which  he  carried  neatly  witji  his  fingers  thrust  down 
their  insides. 

"  Have  some,  my  dear.  Oh,  have  some.  My  Nicky 
never  drinks  nothing  else.  I  say  it  is  strong  enough  for 
young  folks.  The  little  cat  will  lap  it,  too.  You  ought 
to  die  laughing  to  see  her  take  it  from  a  spoon.  Well, 
Nicky,  you  tell  her  about  the  grocery  ?  " 

"  Nix,  ma,  left  explanation  stuff  for  you." 

"  Well,  Nicky  don't  take  to  the  mill,  so  he  thinks  he 
like  to  keep  a  grocery.  There  ain't  nothing  like  a  good 
little  grocery  to  make  a  couple  young  folks  happy.  Get 
a  basement  place,  bundle  wood  round  the  door,  can  stuff 
on  shelves,  cash  register,  and  penny  candy  case.  Your 
papa,  Nicky,  know  where  to  get  those  signs  awful  cheap 
for  most  nothing." 

"  No  Trust  No  Bust,"  nodded  Nick,  "  and  No  Change 
Penny  Short." 

"  And  a  nicer  one — Trust  in  God  but  Sell  for  Cash. 
For  American  customers.  Goes  great.  Ain't  no  reason, 
is  there,  Kazy — Nick  tells  me  you  is  called  Kazy — why 
Armenies  should  have  all  grocery  snaps?" 

"  It'll  be  a  dandy,"  said  Nick,  ardently  banging  his 
check  knee  against  Kazia's  blue  serge  one.  "  We'll  live  in 
back,  and  have  a  buzzer  on  the  door  so  you  can  step  out 
and  see  what's  wanted.  Course  I  shall  have  to  be  going 
down  the  line  a  lot  with  cracker  drummers." 

"  Nicky  say — shove  that  dead  soldier  out  the  way, 
Nicky,  and  open  me  a  new  one — that  you  ain't  got 
nothing  to  help  make  a  start,  but  that's  all  right.  Nicky 
likes  you  and  we  always  gives  him  what  he's  after. 
His  papa  stocks  up  and  pays  a  month  rent  in  advance. 
And  I  get  you  some  clothes  better  than  what  you  is  got. 


288  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

Something  bright  you  should  wear  and  a  rat  under  your 
hair.  Men  likes  to  see  their  womens  dressed  up.  Hey, 
Nicky?" 

Kazia  saw  something  beautiful  in  all  this,  though  her 
year's  growth  of  good  taste  was  offended.  Nick's  mother, 
by  her  bland  glances  of  absolute  confidence,  showed  the 
perfect  feeling  of  oneness  that  existed  between  herself 
and  son. 

Mrs.  Kovinski  arose  with  difficulty,  owing  to  tight 
clothes  and  a  ballast  of  beer,  tottered  across  the  room, 
lovingly  twitched  her  boy's  necktie  crooked,  and  left 
the  lovers  to  talk  over  their  good  fortune. 

Nick,  who  had  been  so  dull  under  the  sunset  sky, 
could  make  love  comfortably  in  this  garish  parlor.  He 
matched  Kazia's  fingers  against  his  own,  and  regretted 
that  they  couldn't  hire  a  hall  for  the  wedding,  owing  to 
her  father's  hatred  of  the  Kovinskis.  It  was  an  awful 
shame,  because,  while  a  hall  let  you  in  for  one  hundred 
dollars,  what  you  took  in  presents  and  for  the  bride's 
dancing  privilege  more  than  made  it  up. 

Of  course  Kazia  did  not  enjoy  this!  Oh,  but  she 
did  enjoy  it.  Trifling  offenses  against  refinement  were 
overlooked.  Habits  of  girlhood  resumed  power.  She 
thought  it  was  dear  of  Nick  to  be  wearing  the  dreadful 
necktie,  because  she  had  made  it.  Besides,  it  was  not  so 
very  dreadful. 

Dutch  curtains  or  compressed  yeast  signs — what  mat- 
tered it  which  decorated  the  window  when  through  it 
one's  love  was  to  be  seen  ? 

There  was  nothing  fluid  about  Kazia,  though  Mrs. 
Tweed  would  have  thought  there  was.  She  had  stuck  to 
her  original  determination,  which  was  to  marry  Nick 


LATHER  AND  FLOWERS  289 

Kovinski,  through  a  year  at  High  School  and  another  in 
the  Normal.  Her  first  wish  had  been  to  bring  herself 
up  to  the  Kovinski  standard.  She  had  gone  a  little 
beyond,  but  it  was  easy  enough  to  drop  back. 

Memory,  Nick's  kisses,  girlish  curiosity,  all  had  power 
over  Kazia.  The  idea  of  marrying  Nick  was  bound  up 
with  her  life;  it  could  not  be  eradicated  without  havoc 
such  as  is  made  when  a  blossoming  vine  is  torn  from  a 
tree.  And  she  knew  there  must  be  compensations  in 
married  life,  or  so  many  would  not  scheme  for  it.  Even 
Mamma  Natupski,  with  all  her  hard  work  and  many 
babies,  seemed  perfectly  happy,  though  papa  touched  her 
up  with  the  goad. 

It  grew  late,  and  Kazia  must  get  the  car  for  Holly, 
since  some  of  the  family  would  drive  to  meet  it.  A  well- 
kissed  Kazia  she  was,  and  after  a  year  in  the  Tweed 
atmosphere  a  kiss  was  to  her  what  one  cocktail  is  to  an 
unbrandied  stomach. 

"  Mamma,"  bawled  Nick,  shaking  the  portieres  until 
their  brass  rings  jangled,  "  Kazik  got  to  go." 

"  Too  bad,"  said  Mrs.  Kovinski,  rubbing  her  rouged 
cheeks  to  apparent  erysipelas.  "  You  shouldn't  told 
nobody  to  meet  you.  Nick's  girl  could  stay  here  nice  as 
not.  A  spare  room  we  don't  fix,  but  just  so  good  a 
bed  is  the  bath  tub  as  anybody  wants." 

Proudly  she  displayed  it.  A  feather  tick  filled  the  tub. 
At  one  end  lay  two  pillows  in  lace-edged  slips.  The 
faucets  had  been  plugged  with  putty.  There  was  no 
slightest  danger  that  any  one  in  the  Kovinski  household 
would  take  a  bath. 

Mrs.  Kovinski  felt  great  pride  in  thus  utilizing  an 
otherwise  wasted  room. 


29o  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

But  Kazia  had  to  go,  and  went,  escorted  by  Nick  and 
followed  by  an  adjuration  to  walk  round  by  Alder  Street 
and  see  the  basement.  It  was  one  of  those  places  ap- 
proached by  three  downward  steps,  and  having  a  third 
of  a  window  above  ground.  Alder  Street  was  the  center 
of  a  Polish  settlement.  Kazia  could  almost  see  herself,  a 
few  years  hence,  in  the  youngish  women  sitting  on  curb- 
stones thereabouts.  She  longed  to  stop  fussing  over  her 
physical  self,  and  to  just  sit  round  feeling  in  her  arms 
a  warm  lump  of  fat  which  she  had  made. 

At  papa's  house  in  West  Holly,  where  a  parlor  fur- 
nished with  celery  boxes  was  presented  as  an  apartment 
of  perfect  propriety,  Kazia  was  not  very  contented,  but 
that  made  her  the  more  enamored  of  Nick.  Only  love 
could  make  up  for  the  loss  of  what  Eastfield  represented. 

Kazia  awoke  at  the  end  of  a  week  feeling  out  of  sorts. 
Three  days  later  she  stopped  eating,  and  lived  only  on 
what  nourishment  might  be  found  in  chicory.  The 
cause  was  not  papa's  uninviting  table,  because  she  could 
not  eat  when  Mrs.  Bowes  invited  her  to  tea,  though 
Mrs.  Bowes  offered  flaky  biscuits,  orange  pekoe  infusion, 
and  the  chocolate  layer  cake  which  Kazia  had  once  de- 
scribed as  "  my  favorite  vegetable." 

Sleep  next  deserted  Kazia  in  the  cluttered  room  which 
she  shared  with  Yadna. 

"What's  matter  of  you?"  'Statia  asked.  "You  got 
no  life  and  your  face  is  pasty-faced.  Mamma  thinks  you 
is  too  stuck-up  to  eat  the  grub.  I  don't  blame  you  there, 
but  why  can't  you  rustle  up  some  raspb'rys  for  your- 
self? You  used  to  be  pretty  good  at  such  doings.  I 
s'pose  you'll  get  so  much  as  nine  dollars  a  week  teach- 
ing school?" 


LATHER  AND  FLOWERS  291 

Kazia  had  her  lips  open  to  cry  out  that  she  would  never 
teach  school,  even  though  there  had  come  a  letter  from 
Mrs.  Tweed  saying  she  had  better  come  back  at  once  and 
hasten  the  time  of  graduation  by  entering  the  summer 
session.  She  lacked  energy  for  the  argument  that  would 
follow  announcement  of  her  real  intentions. 

Believing  herself  sick  for  a  sight  of  Nick  she  went 
boldly  to  Mifflin  Grove  one  afternoon,  but  the  experience 
was  ghastly.  His  kisses  had  lost  savor.  Mrs.  Kovinski 
expressed  concern  at  her  appearance. 

"  Looks  like  a  sickness  was  coming  on  you,"  she  said. 
"  I  bet  you  your  papa's  house  ain't  no  place  to  be  nursed 
up  in.  So  if  you  want  to  come  here  I  and  Nicky  would 
get  you  good  steak  and  onions  and  fried  oysters  and 
bakeshop  bread.  The  nice  little  bed  in  the  bathtub  is 
ready." 

When  Kazia  shivered  awake  that  night,  back  in  West 
Holly,  Mrs.  Kovinski's  words  were  right  before  her,  in 
front  of  a  silly  old  moon.  "  Nice  little  bed  in  the  bath 
tub."  Half  horrible  they  were,  half  tempting.  She  was 
repeating  them  to  herself  later  when  out  in  the  road  she 
met  Susy  Perkins.  Susy  was  now  in  High  School, 
and  she  wanted  Kazia  to  come  and  help  her  in  a 
"  theme." 

Once  it  would  have  meant  something  revolutionary 
for  a  Natupski  to  enter  the  Perkins  house  by  any  but  the 
back  door,  but  Kazia  was  now  considered  to  have  lived 
down  her  family. 

"  Subject's  fierce,"  said  Susy.  "  This  new  poetry 
that  don't  jingle.  Ma  got  me  a  book  to  study.  Listen 
to  this  for  a  title—4  The  Bath.'    Wouldn't  that  jar  you  ?  " 

She  read,  as  prose : 


292  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

"  The  sunshine  pours  in  at  the  bathroom  window 
and  bores  through  the  water  in  the  bath  tub  in  lather 
and  flowers  of  greenish  white.  It  cleaves  the  water 
into  flaws  like  a  jewel  and  cracks  it  into  bright 
light." 

"  What  ?  "  cried  Kazia,  in  a  briskness  foreign  to  her 
tone  since  rounding  Holly  Mountain. 
In  conscientious  monotone  Susy  repeated : 

"  The  sunshine  pours  in  at  the  bathroom  window 
and  bores  through  the  water  in  the  bath  tub  in  lather 
and  flowers  of  greenish  white.  It  cleaves  the  water 
into  flaws  like  a  jewel  and  cracks  it  into  bright 
light." 

"  Oh,  excuse  me,"  said  Kazia,  "  I  can't  stop  any 
longer." 

"  And  she  went,"  asserted  Susy,  "  as  if  she  had  seen 
a  germ!  When  I  hustled  to  the  door  and  asked  when 
she'd  be  back  she  said,  '  Probably  never.  I'm  going  to 
Eastfield  to  be  a  school  teacher.'  Just  as  if  everyone 
didn't  know  that!" 


VIII 
WHENCE  COME  THESE  BLOOMS? 

In  the  sweet  springtime  of  that  year  in  which  Kazia 
Natupski  discovered  the  imagists  Kani  Natupski  sat  at 
breakfast  grumping  over  his  chicory  infusion. 

Taking  account  of  stock  he  saw  that  daughters  had  not 
gone  well.  Anastasia  had  made  a  fool  of  herself  marry- 
ing American  fashion.  'Rinka  had  put  herself  out  at 
interest  and  returned  with  dividends,  the  twins.  This 
was  not  doing  badly,  still  little  boys  must  be  carried  at  a 
loss  a  long  time  in  this  country.  Kazia  was  away  at 
school — he  had  never  thought  much  of  Kazia,  because 
she  was  not  pretty.  Novia  followed.  He  decided  some- 
thing might  be  done  with  Novia.  Plus  a  dowry,  Novia 
should  marry  rich.  Novia  should  be  made  blissfully 
rich  if  he  had  to  beat  her  into  it. 

As  a  fit  prelude  he  ordered  her  into  the  field  to  drop 
potatoes.  He  was  feeling  very  independent  this  spring, 
for  Stanislarni  had  gone  west  to  buy  new  auto  trucks. 
When  the  dormitory  on  the  campus  was  finished,  and  the 
last  of  the  thousand  cords  of  wood  had  been  delivered  in 
Mifflin,  Stanislarni  found  himself  established  in  a  busi- 
ness. All  the  Hollys  wondered  how  they  ever  got  along 
without  an  auto  express,  and  West  Holly  began  to  grow 
prosperous  because  of  securing  what  it  had  hitherto 
lacked,  a  market  for  its  products.  So,  though  the  "  busi- 
ness "  was  not  one  he  would  have  chosen,  Stanislarni 

293 


294  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

proceeded  to  develop  it.  Just  now  Wajeiceh  was  in 
charge,  and  Kani  could  not  deny  a  feeling  of  freedom  in 
the  absence  of  his  big  eldest  son. 

One  afternoon,  at  about  this  time,  the  Natupski  family 
was  under  discussion  at  a  meeting  of  the  Woman's 
Club  in  Mrs.  Bowes's  parlor.  A  social  worker,  who  had 
been  imported,  at  considerable  expense,  to  give  a  talk  on 
"  The  Needs  of  the  Rural  Sections,"  seemed  to  enjoy 
being  side-tracked  into  consideration  of  the  Natupskis. 

"  The  fascinating  problem,  as  I  see  it,"  said  she,  with 
her  settlement  center,  high-salaried  brightness,  "  is  how 
to  lay  hold  of  and  influence  this  man.  He  has  been  with- 
in your  gates  for  many  years  and  still  remains  an  alien. 
Is  it  not  so?  " 

The  Woman's  Club  nodded  one  head. 

"  In  my  opinion  the  best  bait  is  daughters."  She 
spoke  with  emphasis.  There  was  a  Minotauress-like 
gleam  in  her  eye.     "  He  has  daughters  ?  " 

Oh,  yes,  the  Club  replied;  he  had  daughters.  But  it 
was  well  known  that  he  had  never  been  open  to  their 
influence. 

"  You  see,"  explained  Mrs.  Bowes,  "  Mr.  Natupski  is  a 
Polander.  Perhaps  Polanders'  daughters — your  ex- 
perience, Miss  Nettleton,  has  been  with " 

"  Russian  Jews  and  Italians.  Oh,  certainly.  And  our 
invariable  rule,  which  always  works,  is  to  bait  with 
daughters."  She  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  beamed, 
then  went  on,  in  fuller  development,  "  We  aim  to  touch 
the  sweet  sentiment  which  exists  in  every  nature,  how- 
ever outwardly  crabbed.  We  find  a  daughter  and  intrust 
her  with  seeds.  She  plants  them.  The  father  takes  in* 
terest.     Whence  came  these  blooms,  my  daughter?     A 


WHENCE  COME  THESE  BLOOMS?         295 

kind  lady  gave  me  the  seeds,  instructed  me  in  their  cul- 
ture. She  shows  me  so  many  improving  things,  papa.  May 
I  not  adopt  them  in  the  home  ?  The  father,  softened,  lets 
gratitude  go  out  to  those  who  have  helped  his  child.  It 
is  the  little  leaven,  you  know."     She  beamed  again. 

The  Woman's  Club  considered  until  Mrs.  Perkins  ex- 
claimed "  Piffle !  The  little  leaven,  if  'twas  that  number 
female  Natupskis,  couldn't  do  so  much.  His  oldest  girl 
went  to  her  home  from  my  house  with  every  intention  of 
becoming  a  ministering  angel,  but  got  sick  of  her  job  and 
married  the  first  chance  she  got.  And  no  wonder. 
Imagine  that  man  saying  to  any  of  them,  '  Whence  come 
these  blooms,  my  daughter?'  I  pass  the  house  often 
and  I  know  what  he  says  to  'em." 

Miss  Nettleton's  jaw  set  for  an  argument,  but  just  then 
the  auto  came  to  take  her  to  the  station,  and  the  next  ten 
minutes  passed  in  tea  and  twaddle.  Her  words  gained 
weight  only  when  she  was  gone. 

"  After  all,  it's  her  job,"  said  Mrs.  Bowes.  "  She  must 
be  a  dab  at  it  if  she  gets  that  salary.  Suppose  we  offer 
the  young  people  of  West  Holly  free  seeds  and  promise  a 
prize  for  the  best  posy  bed  tended  by  a  girl  ?  My  Helen 
and  your  Susy  can  go  into  it,  Mrs.  Perkins,  to  take  the 
curse  off.  I  thought  I  had  made  some  impression  on  that 
Natupski  man  when  I  got  him  to  acting  so  docile  over 
Kazia's  being  sent  to  school,  but  ever  since  April  he's 
been  a  regular  savage.  Glares  at  me  whenever  I  go  by 
as  if  I'd  done  him  a  mortal  injury.  And  there's  'Rinka 
becoming  a  perfect  drudge;  while  little  Novia  can't  be 
rescued  in  Kazia's  fashion,  because  Miss  Greene  reports 
she's  just  a  sweet,  pretty  little  dunce." 

Mrs.  Perkins  didn't  think  much  of  the  plan,  but  the 


296  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

West  Holly  habit  of  deferring  to  any  Blanchard  Bowes 
opinion  had  infected  even  the  Woman's  Club.  On  her 
way  home  Sabrina  paused  before  the  barb  wire  behind 
which  a  cross  section  of  Natupskis  dropped  potatoes. 
But  the  glittering  prospect  of  perhaps  winning  a  five- 
dollar  gold  piece  for  skill  in  floriculture  made  no  appeal. 
Yadna's  comment  was  a  roar. 

"  Nix,  marm,  nix.  Nothing  doing  for  little  Yadna. 
No  thank  you,  marm.  I'm  out  for  stuff,  I  be,  an'  you 
may  please  put  that  in  your  ole  gray  bonnet.  Quarter 
acre  papa  is  give  me  for  my  own  and  into  onion  she  goes. 
Good  moneys  in  onions.  But  honest,  Misses  Perkins,  you 
wouldn't  believe  what  a  hell  of  a  time  I  had  to  find 
manure." 

Mrs.  Perkins  wished  Miss  Nettleton  was  there  to  hear. 
Yadna  went  on  to  further  explain  her  plan. 

"  With  onion  money  I  gets  me  a  little  small  pig.  Swill 
I  save  for  it  right  now.  Is  you  got  any  you  ain't  using  to 
your  house,  Mrs.  Perkins  ?  " 

Feeling  that  as  usual  she  had  run  against  a  stone  wall 
in  trying  to  improve  a  Natupski,  Mrs.  Perkins  was  about 
to  go  on,  when  an  unkempt  head  upreared  itself  from  a 
bushy  corner,  to  be  assaulted  with  stones  and  rough 
words. 

"  Wake  up,  Miss  Stick-in-the-Mud.  Novia  shirk,  will 
not  work." 

Mrs.  Perkins  looked  with  special  interest  on  the 
"  sweet,  pretty  little  dunce  "  of  District  Seven,  and  saw 
that  since  she  had  last  observed  her  carefully  the  girl  had 
indeed  grown  in  beauty,  though  she  seemed  neither  clean 
nor  energetic.  She  rubbed  her  eyes  with  dirt  encrusted 
fingers,  to  the  demoralization  of  all  the  hygiene  she  had 


WHENCE  COME  THESE  BLOOMS?         297 

been  taught  by  Miss  Olive  Greene.  Then  she  smiled 
shyly  and  let  the  vigorous  Yadna  shoulder  her  against 
the  barb  wire. 

"  Ouch,  your  finger's  torn !  "  cried  Mrs.  Perkins,  winc- 
ing in  sympathy,  but  Mr.  Natupski,  from  his  position  in 
listening  distance,  said  "  It's  a  never  mind  "  in  a  tone  that 
augured  small  possession  of  that  "  sweet  sentiment " 
which,  according  to  Miss  Nettleton,  existed  in  every 
nature,  "  however  outwardly  crabbed." 

Before  leaving  the  Bowes  mansion  Mrs.  Perkins  had 
provided  herself  with  the  gaudiest  of  seed  catalogues. 
This  she  handed  to  Novia. 

"  See  how  pretty,"  she  said,  pointing  to  a  pictured 
parterre  in  which  violets,  zinnias,  asters,  and  chrysanthe- 
mums mingled  to  a  fine  disarrangement  of  seasons. 

Mr.  Natupski  made  a  long  arm  and  snatched  the  book 
from  his  daughter. 

"  Huh !  "  he  said  to  page  after  page,  ruffling  it  rapidly 
from  cover  to  cover,  and  then  holding  it  out.  Mrs. 
Perkins  reached,  but  so  mincingly,  for  the  Natupski  barbs 
were  sharp  and  the  Natupski  hands  were  dirty,  that  the 
book  fell  to  the  ground.  As  it  was  on  his  side  Mr. 
Natupski  stooped  to  pick  it  up  and  appeared  to  get  fixed 
in  that  position.  He  stooped  so  long  that  Mrs.  Perkins 
stepped  nearer  and  peered  through  the  fence.  Then  he 
straightened  and  began  to  question.  Could  his  girl  truly 
have  seeds,  just  what  she  wanted,  and  as  many  as  she 
liked? 

Mrs.  Perkins  nodded  assent. 

"All  ri',  Novia,"  he  exclaimed.  "Don't  you  see 
the  lady's  got  a  hurry?  Speak  quick.  What  you 
like?" 


298  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

"  S — sunflowers,"  jerked  out  Novia,  choosing  thus  be- 
cause she  had  a  dim  idea  papa  would  be  pleased  at  some- 
thing hens  would  eat. 

Mrs.  Perkins  laughed,  the  sunflower  having  no  aesthetic 
value  in  West  Holly.  For  this,  or  some  other  reason, 
Mr.  Natupski  voiced  a  veto. 

"  Wait  minute,"  he  said,  sweetly,  to  Mrs.  Perkins. 
"  Excuse,  please,  while  I  speaks  Polish.  Poppies, 
daughter,  poppies." 

"Poppies,  tatulo  (father)?" 

"  Yes.  Tell  the  ugly  old  woman  poppy  seeds.  For 
an  acre." 

Not  knowing  Mr.  Natupski's  description  of  her,  Mrs. 
Perkins  spent  the  time  pitying  the  poor  alien.  He  was 
perhaps  homesick  for  whatever  posy  he  had  loved  in 
Poland.  It  might  be  the  bluebell.  She  remembered 
something  of  bluebells  in  Sienkiewicz. 

Novia  again  opened  her  pretty  lips. 

"  Please,  marm,"  she  lisped,  "  it  is  poppies  I  would 
like.    An  acre." 

"  An  acre  of  poppies !  "  Mrs.  Perkins  was  startled,  even 
while  glad  the  flower  selected  was  one  that  would  prob- 
ably succeed  in  West  Holly  soil. 

"  I  give  her  ground  for  so  much,"  said  Mr.  Natupski, 
taking  off  his  hat  with  a  tardy  politeness.  "  It  shall 
be  nice.  So  far  as  looking,  this  way,  that  way, 
poppy." 

Mrs.  Perkins  was  delighted.  "  Get  the  ground  ready 
at  once,"  she  said,  as  she  started  toward  home.  "  I 
promise  you  all  the  seed  Novia  can  want." 

The  next  day,  while  gleefully  giving  each  member  of 
the  Woman's  Club  a  separate  description  of  the  inter- 


WHENCE  COME  THESE  BLOOMS?         299 

view  over  the  'phone,  Mrs.  Perkins  was  interrupted  by 
her  daughter  Susy,  who  remarked,  "  Say,  ma,  one  of 
those  nasty  Natupskis  was  here  and  left  this." 

"  Susan,  your  language  is  more  objectionable  than  its 
subject.     What  did  the  child  want?" 

"  She  was  not  a  child.  She  was  Novia  and  she's  as  old 
as  I  am.  And  whatever  she  wants,  she  needs  a  tub.  It 
strikes  me  funny,  ma,  that  after  you've  raised  me  fussy, 
so  I'm  expected  to  wash  any  time  I've  no  other  pressing 
avocation,  you  haven't  one-half  the  interest  in  me  that 
you  have  in  those  Polish  impossibles.  Here's  the  mes- 
sage.   I  call  it  too  degenerate  for  firewood." 

Miss  Susy  flounced  out,  rejoicing  in  having  gotten 
three  large  words  and  a  good  measure  of  home  truth 
into  a  single  speech. 

Mrs.  Perkins  gazed  at  the  shingle,  on  which  appeared 
a  printed  word.  By  reference  to  a  botanical  encyclopedia 
she  discovered  it  was  the  name  of  a  certain  variety  of  the 
poppy  family.  She  understood — but  wasn't  that  Natup- 
ski  man  cleverer  than  one  might  think  ? 

Or  was  it  the  sort  of  poppy  that  grew  in  Poland,  which, 
in  West  Holly,  was  to  rouse  the  best  sentiments  in  the 
hitherto  flinty  Kani  Natupski?  She  believed  it  was. 
Over  the  growing  of  these  poppies  he  would  find  grow- 
ing in  his  heart  a  love  for  his  home.  Never  again  on 
barren  ground  would  fall  the  West  Holly  ladies'  advice, 
so  often  repeated,  to  effect  that  it  wasn't  wise  to  beat 
one's  daughters  or  starve  one's  family  now  in  the  cause 
of  a  future  fortune,  or  expect  virtue  and  moral  beauty  to 
thrive  in  dirt  and  neglect. 

The  poppy  seed  came,  after  a  trifling  delay  (the  ware- 
house explained  that  it  was  a  rather  large  order),  and 


30o  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

Mrs.  Perkins  took  keen  interest  in  seeing  Novia's  slender 
form  always  bending  over  the  black  earth.  Mr.  Natupski 
certainly  was  doing  the  thing  splendidly.  This  poppy 
field  seemed  better  fertilized  than  any  other  in  his  domain. 
She  tried  to  establish  friendly  relations  with  Novia,  but 
the  girl  did  not  like  to  talk.  At  times  she  did  not  under- 
stand what  was  said  to  her. 

"  You  love  this  work,  don't  you,  Novia  ?  "  Mrs.  Per- 
kins remarked  one  hot  June  day.  "  My  Susy  says  she 
sees  you  out  here  in  the  very  earliest  morning,  when  she 
is  doing  her  barefoot  dew  stunts." 

"  No'm,"  murmured  Novia. 

"  You  mean,  of  course,  that  you  are  just  looking  for- 
ward to  seeing  it  in  blossom.  It  will  certainly  be  lovely. 
You  won't  regret  any  of  the  back-aching  then." 

"  Yes'm,"  said  Novia. 

"  What  ?  Oh,  well,  I  see.  And  your  father  excuses 
you  from  the  farm  work  so  that  you  may  be  a  little  lady 
gardener.    It  is  kind  of  him,  is  it  not,  Novia  ?  " 

"  No'm,"  came  again  from  Novia's  close-pressed  lips. 
Mrs.  Perkins  walked  off.  Poor  girl,  she  was  either  stupid 
or  sulky.  Probably  the  former,  as  she  gave  all  the 
wrong  answers. 

When  the  poppies  bloomed  it  was  a  sight  for  sore 
eyes  in  West  Holly.  An  acre  of  poppies,  glowing  as 
bits  broken  from  sundowns  and  dawns,  trembling  on  their 
slender  stems  in  response  to  the  tiniest  of  breezes,  inviting 
bee-kisses  from  miles  around.  Whatever  Mr.  Natupski 
had  planned  for  his  daughter's  poppy  field,  it  attained 
fame.  Fanny  Atwood,  who  reported  the  town  for  the 
Hamson  Chronotype,  cut  herself  short  in  a  most  impor- 
tant item  beginning  "  This  week  there  are  not  many  week- 


WHENCE  COME  THESE  BLOOMS?         301 

end  visitors  who  are  spending  any  of  the  week  in  West 
Holly,"  and  wrote  a  long  "  piece  "  about  poppies  which 
was  part  Edison's  Encyclopedia  and  part  the  Natupski 
field,  and  which  came  out  with  a  hanging  indentation  head 
on  the  first  page.  Madella  Magee,  who  clerked  in  the 
Post  Office  and  eked  out  a  living  by  snapshots,  crochet 
edging  and  shirtwaists  made  to  your  own  measure,  took 
a  photograph  of  the  field,  and  by  and  by  it  came  back  on 
a  mendacious  post  card,  claiming,  despite  the  war,  to  be 
"  Printed  in  Germany,"  with  all  the  colors  wrong,  and 
sold  like  hot  cakes.  Abner  Slocumb  and  the  rest  of  the 
farming  fraternity  scratched  their  heads  and  allowed 
'twas  queerer'n  Dick's  hat  to  see  such  a  lot  of  land  given 
up  by  Natupski  to  a  crop  of  positively  no  use. 

Novia  had  answered  Mrs.  Perkins  in  perfect  truth. 
She  hated  poppies.  Because  of  poppies  she  worked  a 
great  deal  harder  than  any  previous  year. 

To  a  man  working  with  Novia's  advantage  in  view,  the 
behavior  of  Novia  was  exasperating.  Sometimes  her 
father  felt  she  would  be  no  good  unless  she  felt  the  lash 
stinging  about  her  legs.  He  might  have  to  give  her  a 
beating — later  on,  when  work  was  not  pressing — unless 
the  poppies  were  tended  faithfully,  and  each  capsule 
pricked  at  the  proper  time. 

This  gave  added  reason  for  hating  poppies,  and  Novia 
crouched  in  the  field,  hating  with  all  her  feeble  might,  one 
afternoon  when  a  man  on  a  piebald  pony  trotted  from 
the  cross  roads  and  paused  to  admire. 

"  Well,  of  all  things,"  he  said,  gravely,  speaking  to  the 
pony  (since  Novia  he  could  not  see).  "An  acre  of 
poppies.     Beats  creation." 

He   leaned   over   the   wall   and   plucked   a   handful. 


302  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

"  H'm.  Sliced  already.  Lots  of  heads  cut.  Bangs  the 
bush!" 

When  Novia  heard  the  bush  mentioned  she  stirred, 
thinking  herself  seen,  so  that  he  did  see  her,  and  took  off 
a  larky  looking  felt  hat  that  was  the  reason  for  a  line 
separating  peach-blow  from  bronze  across  a  Roman  nose. 

"The  Natupski  poppies?"  he  queried,  brusquely. 
Novia  was  cuddled  among  the  flowers,  he  took  her  for 
half  her  age.  She  nodded  wearily.  Another  to  want 
to  know  all  sorts  of  things,  she  supposed.  Papa  would 
be  angry.  He  was  always  angry,  because  whatever  she 
said  was  never  the  right  answer.  She  would  say  nothing 
to  this  one.  Still  it  was  disappointing  when  he  simply 
remarked  "Sposh!"  and  rode  away.  However,  the 
road  he  took  led  only  to  Jackson's  Summer  Boarders 
Accommodated  and  in  an  hour  he  rode  back  and  stopped 
for  another  look. 

Novia  had  improved  her  time.  She  had  gone  home 
and  washed  her  face.  She  did  not  stop  to  convince  her- 
self there  was  any  need  of  doing  so,  she  just  washed  it. 

He  took  off  his  hat  immediately,  because  he  saw  Novia 
was  a  girl,  not  a  little  girl.  He  spoke  as  one  well  es- 
tablished in  friendly  relations. 

"  You  think  they're  dreadful  handsome,"  he  affirmed. 
"  I'm  told  you're  out  Here  every  day  and  all  day." 

Novia  nodded  "  yes  "  to  the  second  statement. 

"  I  bet  there's  a  hundred  shades  of  color,"  he  went  on. 
"  Bet  there's  twenty-five  reds  and  yellows.  As  to  count- 
ing 'em — old  Rockefeller  can  try  it  when  he's  practised 
counting  his  dollars.  Miss  Natupski,  you  are  one  won- 
derful girl  to  have  done  all  this.  I  guess  no  one  in  the 
neighborhood  has  your  love  for  posies." 


WHENCE  COME  THESE  BLOOMS?         303 

"  I  hate  'em,"  she  said  briefly  and  let  it  go  at  that.  If 
he  wanted  to  stay  and  talk  to  her — and  very  much  she 
wanted  him  to  want  to  stay  and  talk — he  must  under- 
stand the  truth.  Despite  her  hatred  of  them,  Novia 
hadn't  lived  among  poppies  all  summer  without  learning 
a  good  deal  about  them,  and  while  the  pony's  mas- 
ter was  mentally  staggering  under  her  blow  she 
poked  about  until  she  found  a  certain  specially  beauti- 
ful blossom.  It  was  rose  red,  and  no  mere  onlooker 
could  have  seen  it,  modestly  hidden  among  flaunting 
blooms. 

"  For  me  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Oh,  thank  you.  It's  a  top- 
notcher,  it  is.  You  ought  to  seal  the  seed  up  separate 
and  put  it  on  the  market  with  the  title  Miss  What's-your- 
name  Natupski." 

"  Novia,  I'm  called." 

"  Oh,  Novia  Natupski.  Say,  that's  a  slick  name,  with 
apt  alliteration's  artful  aid,  as  we  used  to  recite.  I'm 
Bert  Sears.     And  I'll  keep  this  posy " 

He  was  about  to  name  some  lengthy  period,  as  a  couple 
of  eternities,  when  the  pony  saved  him  any  possible 
prevarication  by  eating  the  poppy  and  then  trotting  away 
in  roguish  fear. 

"  Oh — sposh !  "  Mr.  Sears  was  compelled  to  shout  and 
cut  down  the  road. 

Novia  called  that  evening  on  her  eldest  sister  and 
borrowed  a  pair  of  corsets.  Furthermore  she  appro- 
priated the  pink  silk  stockings  that  alone  remained  of 
Marinka's  sensational  trousseau.  With  Kazia's  shoes 
hiding  the  ragged  feet  and  Yadna's  white  dress  pinch- 
ing the  stays  Novia  took  up  her  customary  watch.  Des- 
pite her  glory  Bert  Sears  knew  her  as  far  off  as  he  could 


304  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

see,  and  removed  his  hat  that  far,  too.  And  held  it  in  his 
hand  during  a  two  hours'  dawdling  talk. 

"  The  pony's  out  to  grass,"  he  began.  "  I  couldn't  risk 
his  appetite  on  any  more  gifts." 

Feeling  the  moral  support  of  her  sisters'  clothes,  Novia 
smiled.  She  was  very  pretty  when  she  smiled.  She  had 
been  smiling  when  her  father  first  got  the  idea  she  would 
be  worth  earning  a  dowry  for.  Sears  vaulted  to  the 
wall!  his  neat  tan  shoes  and  white  thread  socks  dangled 
beside  the  pink  silk  and  shabby  canvas.  Novia  knew  he 
was  the  finest  man  she  would  ever  see. 

"  We  look  pretty  gay  this  A.  M.,"  said  he,  perhaps  re- 
ferring to  finery  and  perhaps  to  poppies.  Novia  chose 
to  think  poppies. 

"  I'm  dead  sick  of  poppies,"  she  whispered.  "  I'm  only 
sixteen.  They  ought  to  be  gay.  They've  got  all  my 
summer." 

Sears  seemed  to  understand.  "  Poor  kid,"  he  said, 
"  I  don't  blame  you."  He  took  her  hand  and  patted  it 
softly.  Then,  "  Why  in  tunket,"  he  inquired,  "  did  you 
set  out  such  a  monstrous  garden  for?  " 

"  Tatulo,  he  told  me  I  should." 

"Tatulo?" 

"  Papa— Mr.  Natupski." 

"  Oh !    Your  pa  is  powerful  fond  of  flowers,  I  guess." 

"  He  ain't.  He  throws  out  always  the  geranium  slips 
we  has  in  tin  cans  winters.  And  a  lady  told  me — Mrs. 
Slocumb  it  was — when  my  papa  bought  the  farm  there 
was  piazza  vines  and  bushes  with  roses  on,  and  he  pulled 
'em  up  quick  before  even  mamma  should  get  here  from 
Poland." 

A  queer  smile  curled  about  Sears's  mouth,  as  if  he  had 


WHENCE  COME  THESE  BLOOMS?         305 

never  believed  the  Polander  was  raising  poppies  for 
fun. 

Then  he  supposed  seed  was  to  be  saved  for  sale. 

"  I  suppose  it  will  be  slathers  of  work  keeping  the 
colors  separate." 

"  How  ?  "  asked  Novia,  bewildered.  "  Oh,  no,  mister, 
I  won't  have  to  sort  out  no  colors.  I  guess  I  would  be 
crazy  if  I  must  do  that.  A  funny  man  buys  the  poppy 
juice  off  papa.  He  had  a  hair  braid,  but  he  talked  good 
as  you  and  me.    I  guess  he  is  what  they  call  a  Chink." 

"  I  guess  you're  right,  Miss  Novia  Natupski,"  said 
Mr.  Sears. 

Then  he  laid  her  hand  on  the  sun-warm  wall  and 
deliberately  rolled  a  cigarette,  which  he  just  as  deliber- 
ately did  not  smoke,  but  deposited  carefully  in  a  waist- 
coat pocket.  He  also  said  "  Sposh ! "  It  was  not  an 
exclamation,  but  a  question,  fired  into  the  universe. 

Then  he  stopped  harping  on  poppies  and  spoke  to 
Novia  of  herself.  He  learned  about  her  career  at  school, 
and  her  gentle  regrets  that  she  need  go  no  more,  being 
"  over  age."  She  told  of  girlish  plans,  which  proved 
girldom  to  be  girldom,  in  whatever  nationality  bred. 
Perhaps  that  was  why  he  kissed  her  when  he  went  away. 
Perhaps  that  was  why  he  no  more  than  kissed  her. 

Novia  watched  him  Jacksonward,  then  threw  herself 
among  the  poppies,  crushing  their  brightness  on  her  lips 
as  if  to  absorb  each  hue. 

Her  father,  coming  out  to  gloat,  thought  her  sleep- 
ing, and  was  about  to  enforce  his  "  Up,  lazy  loafer,"  in 
the  usual  way  when  Novia  sprang  to  her  feet  and  looked 
at  him  with  such  transfiguration  of  beauty  that  the  little 
stunted  man  felt  stunned. 


306  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

"  Darling  poppies,"  cried  the  girl,  "  I  love  you.  Awful 
much  I  love  you." 

Turning  suddenly  on  her  father  she  flung  her  arms 
about  his  grimy  neck,  sobbing,  "  And,  darling  papa,  I 
love  you,  too.    Awful  much  I  love  you." 

Kani  hardly  knew  his  daughter  and  could  only  gasp, 
"  What's  doing?    What's  tickling  you,  Novia?  " 

"  Oh,  I  feel  so  good.  This  is  awful  nice  farm,  and 
you  awful  nice  papa." 

"Huh?" 

"  Yes.  Why,  papa,  I  even  love  that  biggest  pig.  She 
awful  nice  pig." 

Mr.  Natupski  would  have  inquired  more  fully  into  the 
cause  of  Novia's  glee,  but  for  being  distracted  by  the  sud- 
den entrance  on  the  scene  of  practically  half  West  Holly. 
Talking,  too. 

"  Say,  Natupski,  you  didn't  ought  to  have  did  so,  you 
know.  Giving  the  neighborhood  a  bad  name."  This 
from  Hiram  Farrar. 

"  The  devil,  Natupski,  you  shouldn't  branch  out  into 
big  biz  'thout  consulting  somebody  'r  other.  I'd  'a'  told 
you  what  for,"  came  from  Abner  Slocumb. 

Mrs.  Bowes  screamed,  hysterically,  "  We  give  you  up 
from  now  on.    The  Woman's  Club  gives  you  up." 

Mrs.  Perkins  was  there  wringing  her  hands  and  her 
handkerchief. 

"  Grand  argument  for  anti-suffrage,"  piped  Solomon 
Russell.  "  Let  the  females  keep  to  tacking  bluebirds  on 
barn  doors,  while  we  men  folks  run  things  good  like  we 
always  done." 

Mrs.  Perkins  flounced  off.  Slocumb  tried  to  explain  to 
Natupski  his  near-crime. 


WHENCE  COME  THESE  BLOOMS?         307 

"  You  see,"  he  said,  "  all  those  pieces  in  the  paper 
called  attention  to  that  poppy  field.  And  a  fellow  has 
been  snooping  round  some  time — Sears,  he's  called. 
Boards  with  the  Jacksons.  I  surmise  he's  some  sort  of  a 
detective.  A  few  minutes  ago  he  called  Mifflin  Grove  on 
the  'phone,  and  told  what  he'd  worked  out — that  you  was 
selling  poppy  juice  to  a  Chinaman.  And  the  Chink — 
he'd  got  the  name — is  under  suspicion  of  some  unlawful 
dealings  in  opium.  Ain't  much  doubt  what  your  poppies 
was  going  tcUurn  into." 

"  Sears  was  durn  careless,"  put  in  Farrar.  "  Never 
realized,  I  s'pose,  how  all  the  receivers  goes  down  when- 
ever any  one  commences  to  talk  on  our  line.  The  women 
started  a  clack,  and  we  thought  we'd  come  up  and  warn 
you,  since  you  don't  seem  to  have  delivered  the  goods." 

"  Plow  your  poppies  in  to  once  and  plants  turnips  on 
their  graves,"  advised  Slocumb. 

Bowes  offered  to  lend  his  sulky  plow,  the  only  one  in 
town.  Every  one  was  sorry  for  the  little  ignorant  Po- 
lander,  blenching  under  the  dirt. 

They  could  not  know  he  was  blenching  with  anger  and 
not  fear.  He  had  been  quite  well  aware  that  selling 
poppy  juice  to  make  opium  was  not  exactly  safe.  His 
had  been  a  shrewd  scheme  to  amass  a  small  fortune. 
Natupski  stupid?  He  was  not  in  the  least  stupid.  He 
was  so  clever  that  after  living  beside  these  neighbors 
for  twenty  years  he  could  fool  them  by  feigning  stupidity 
when  such  feigning  might  get  him  out  of  a  scrape.  He 
wished  the  men  and  women  would  go  away  so  he  could 
curse  in  peace  over  the  unlucky  outcome  of  the  brilliant 
plan  born  in  his  mind  as  he  saw  the  poppy  page  in  the 
seed  catalogue  Mrs.   Perkins  had  let  fall  that  spring 


308  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

afternoon.  It  seemed  a  gift  from  heaven,  the  idea,  com- 
ing just  when  he  wanted  money  for  Novia's  dowry. 
With  the  Woman's  Club  and  Novia  concerned  it  had 
seemed  to  him  the  poppy  field  would  pass  as  a  girl's 
garden. 

Even  now  he  wondered  how  that  detective  man  had 
learned  so  much.  Only  Novia  knew  of  the  Chinaman's 
visit.  She  had  been  in  the  field  when  he  came  to  look  at 
it,  and  to  explain  just  how  he  wanted  the  juice  collected, 
with  clever  fingers,  at  the  hour  of  dawn. 

Susy  Perkins  gave  the  required  information  in  a  side 
sneer  for  Novia's  benefit.  "  I  guess  that  was  pretty  bad," 
she  sputtered.  "  Bert  Sears  sitting  on  walls  holding 
hands.  Swell  beau,  Miss  Novia,  laying  plans  to  get  your 
pa  arrested." 

Novia  was  off  in  a  flash,  when  the  dreadful  truth  was 
told.  To  the  poppy  field  she  fled,  her  heart  as  surely 
wounded  as  if  the  drip  of  blood  stained  Anastasia's 
corsets.  It  had  meant  nothing  that  she  had  thought  it 
meant — his  speaking  softly,  listening  eagerly,  pressing 
his  lips  to  hers.  Where  the  poison  had  been  sucked  in 
Novia  tried  to  burn  it  out.  She  bruised  her  lips  against 
the  wall.  She  fell  in  the  dirt  between  masses  of  poppies. 
She  thought  she  would  never  rise.  Life  had  been  beauti- 
ful, now  it  was  ugly.     She  wanted  no  more  of  it. 

Yet  one  hint  of  her  father's  goad  brought  her  to  her 
knees. 

"  Blab  mouth,"  hissed  Kani.  "  Take  shame  for  your- 
self, vile  girl.  All  the  neighbors  seen  you  lovemaking, 
when  me,  me  believed  you  worked.  Up  and  take  what's 
coming." 

Novia's  kind  and  loving  father,  so  keenly  disappointed 


WHENCE.  COME  THESE  BLOOMS?         309 

in  his  beautiful  plan  to  give  the  speculation's  proceeds  to 
his  daughter  for  a  marriage  portion,  whirled  her  about. 
He  sought  the  most  attractive  spot  for  an  opening  blow. 
Novia  closed  her  eyes  and  longed  for  the  sting  that 
might  bring  forgetfulness  of  a  shameful  memory,  when 
lying  lips  sought  hers  and  found  them,  oh,  so  willing! 

Trit-trot !  came  a  pony.  "  Sposh !  "  said  a  voice  in  tone 
of  thunder. 

"  You,  mister,"  snorted  Natupski,  "  wait  till  this  girl 
is  got  licked  and  I  do  you  the  same." 

Instantly  Novia  felt  herself  plucked  from  her  father's 
grasp  and  deposited  on  the  pony's  back.  Mr.  Sears  then 
removed  his  coat  and  bared  a  pair  of  muscular  arms. 

"  Say,  that  program  ain't  quite  correct.  You  got  to 
take  me  first." 

Mr.  Natupski  stared  at  six  feet  and  muttered. 

"  No  show,  eh  ?  And  let  me  tell  you,  no  reason.  I'd 
stand  with  hands  tied  and  let  myself  be  beat  up  if  you 
had  a  reason.  But  I  fixed  it  so  you  got  warned  in  time, 
and  for  your  flyer  in  opium  you're  the  worse  for  nothing 
but  a  scare.  Mr.  Natupski,  give  me  your  hand  and  call 
it  half  settled." 

Natupski  let  fall  the  goad. 

"  Give  me  Novia  and  call  it  all  settled." 

Natupski  grinned.  After  all,  a  poppy  field  would  be 
Novia's  marriage  portion. 


IX 
OLD  BILLS  TO  PAY 

Mrs  Natupski  sat  alone  in  the  house.  It  is  hard  to 
believe,  but  she  was  quite  alone.  Everything  from 
Novia  down  was  in  District  Seven,  making  it  possible  for 
Miss  Olive  Greene  to  keep  her  job. 

The  committee  faced  the  situation  bravely.  When  the 
last  Natupski  finished  the  ninth  grade  District  Seven 
would  be  no  more.  To  give  Miss  Greene  something  to 
do  a  kindergarten  class  had  been  formed,  in  which 
Zinzic  and  'Rinka's  twins  burst  into  comprehension  every 
forenoon.     Mrs.  Natupski  did  not  like  being  alone.    . 

She  felt  afraid,  as  if  something  unpleasant  was  going 
to  happen.  It  did.  Stanislarni  arrived.  Mrs.  Natupski 
looked  with  awe  at  her  handsome  eldest  son. 

He  came  in,  kissed  his  mother,  and  sat  down  patiently 
by  her  side. 

"  I  met  father — tatulo — and  'Rinka,"  he  said,  speak- 
ing in  the  slow  and  careful  manner  which  exasperated 
his  mother  so  that  she  wished  he  was  reduced  to  the  size 
for  beating.    "  He  said  he  was  going  to  the  courthouse." 

Mrs.  Natupski  shook  her  head  in  pretended  doubt. 
She  remembered  a  time  when  she  had  waited  for  a  ship 
and  taught  a  boy  an  English  greeting.  It  was  never 
this  boy.  That  other's  mechanical  "  Hell-o,  pa-pa," 
after  many  years,  was  more  real  than  anything  said  today 
by  the  well-dressed  giant  sitting  beside  her.     He  and 

310 


OLD  BILLS  TO  PAY  311 

Kani  seemed  to  have  much  to  talk  about,  but  she  under- 
stood nothing  of  their  plans.  She  was  only  good  to 
tend  babies,  and  the  babies  had  stopped.  Once  she  had 
hoped  to  keep  Stepan,  but  now  they  were  saying  he  must 
be  sent  to  High  School.  That  was  the  end.  When  they 
went  to  High  School  they  were  lost. 

After  a  while  Stanislarni  got  tired  of  sitting  still.  He 
went  out  of  doors  and  inspected  the  swelling  buds  on 
the  pear  trees.  Then  he  disappeared  round  the  house 
and  came  in  through  the  shed. 

"  Father — tatulo — has  moved  the  fence,"  he  observed. 

Mrs.  Natupski  looked  up  and  tried  to  read  her  son  with 
eyes  that  were  very  like  the  seeds  to  come  later  on  the 
hedge  of  tiger  lilies  that  changed  owners  when  the  fence 
went  back.    He  looked  too  shrewd  to  win  her  confidence. 

"  If  he  wants  to  sell  he  better  let  it  all  go,  and  not  dis- 
pose of  it  in  this  piecemeal  fashion,"  Stanislarni  went  on, 
musing  aloud.  "  Father'd  buy,  and  the  money  in  the 
lump  would  be  worth  something  to  the  Slocumbs." 

Mrs.  Natupski  clinched  her  fists  under  her  apron  of 
cracked  black  oilcloth.  This  was  how  he  spoke  of  the 
Slocumbs,  whose  chickens  and  cream  had  preserved  his 
father  the  time  Tadcuse  was  the  baby.  Since  Stanislarni 
was  now  too  large  to  beat  she  wished  she  had  beaten  him 
oftener  when  he  was  small.  She  would  give  Yan  and 
Zinzic  beatings  when  they  returned  from  school.  Per- 
haps twenty  years  from  now  they  would  bring  her 
sorrow. 

Once  more  Stanislarni  went  out.  Wandering  aim- 
lessly, he  came  under  a  Slocumb  window  and  saw  an 
awful  sight — Nancy  Slocumb  in  tears.  When  Nancy  felt 
emotion  she  screwed  her  features  into  resemblance  of 


312  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

some  terrifying  gargoyle.  She  had  been  weeping  for  an 
hour,  and  it  would  take  days  for  her  face  to  smooth 
out. 

Hurrying  home,  he  found  his  mother  had  gone  into  the 
front  room,  where  she  could  see  the  newly  located  fence. 
Her  shoulders  were  shaking,  and  great  crystal  drops 
rolled  down  her  bulbous  nose  and  fell  off  her  leathery 
chin.  Stanislarni  hadn't  been  so  puzzled  since  his  first 
encounter  with  oyster  forks,  butter-spreaders,  and  finger- 
bowls. 

At  the  barn  door  he  waited  his  father's  coming. 

"Mamma  is  crying,"  he  began.  "What's  she  sad 
about?    Has  anything  happened  to  any  of  us?" 

Kani's  face  expressed  exhilaration  and  guilt. 

It  was  still  possible  to  obtain  information  from  Kani 
Natupski  by  walking-match  methods,  and  Stanislarni 
always  wore  easy  shoes  when  he  went  home.  Today  they 
paced  a  mile  to  the  woods  and  followed  the  new  fence 
back.  They  trotted  in  other  directions  to  look  at  winter 
rye  and  plowed  fields.  Finally  Kani  vaulted  the  new 
fence  and  crashed  through  undergrowth,  until  he 
emerged  on  a  high  cliff  which  overlooked  all  the  Natupski, 
Slocumb,  and  Pinkney  domains,  as  well  as  much  of  the 
Bowes  and  Perkins  property.  Stanislarni  followed  and 
was  glad  to  sit  and  rest  on  the  mossy  carpet  topping  the 
huge  ledge. 

"  Sunrise  Rock  "  it  had  been  for  over  a  century,  and 
the  initials  of  wandering  students  from  Holly  Academy 
were  healing  over  on  all  nearby  trees.  The  students 
made  the  place  an  object  of  their  Mayflower  and  Chest- 
nut walks,  and  quarreled  as  to  the  legend  connected  there- 
with.   Of  course  it  was  the  scene  of  an  Indian  maiden's 


OLD  BILLS  TO  PAY  313 

death,  and  she  had  thrown  herself  over  the  precipice. 
But  was  she  escaping  from  a  cruel  Englishman,  or  did 
she  die  of  sorrow  because  deserted  by  a  lover  of  her  own 
people?  At  any  rate,  she  had  thrown  herself  over  the 
precipice.  Stanislarni  went  to  the  edge  and  looked  down. 
It  would  be  a  terrible  fall,  but  now  the  valley  below  was 
filled  with  trees,  the  tops  of  which  were  but  a  little  way 
below  the  rock. 

"  Yes,"  said  Kani,  as  if  a  question  had  been  asked, 
"  good  lumber  it  is.  Around  here  better  couldn't  be 
found  with  a  candle.  And  when  it  gets  cut  down  you 
shall  make  a  fine  thing  hauling  it,  Stanislarni." 

Stanislarni  was  startled.  "  Is  Mr.  Slocumb  going  to 
sell  the  timber?"  he  asked. 

Kani  suddenly  jumped  to  his  feet  and  spoke  as  if 
defending  himself,  though  no  accusation  had  been  made. 
"  One  hundred  acre  he  had,"  he  cried,  "  long  'fore  me  and 
mamma  comes  here  from  Poland.  And  always  a  mort- 
gage. By  and  by  into  a  bank  the  mortgage  gets.  Ei, 
Stanislarni,  if  you  must  mortgage,  never  to  a  bank.  M's 
Buckland  have  a  heart  to  a  bank,  ole  she-devil  she  is !  So 
me  take  mortgage.  To  oblige.  Jus'  to  oblige.  Interest 
due,  take  land,  move  fence.  M's  Slocumb  cry,  mamma 
cry.  Bimeby  me  take  woodland,  right  here,  give  door- 
yard.  Move  fence  back.  M's  Slocumb  ask  to  supper. 
Mamma  sing  Oi  ta  dada.     You  like  that,  Stanislarni  ?  " 

Stanislarni  leaned  against  a  big  tree  that  was  to  other 
pines  what  he  was  to  his  father.  For  a  while  he  did  not 
speak,  then  he  asked,  "  Why  didn't  you  take  the  wood- 
land in  the  first  place  ?  " 

Kani  kicked  a  couple  of  stones  over  the  cliff  and 
seemed  to  enjoy  hearing  them  crash  through  the  trees. 


314  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

"  Slocumb  fool,"  remarked  Kani.  "  Not  farm  good. 
Always  buy  things  for  wife.  Water  squirt  in  yard. 
Dam'  fool." 

Stanislarni  did  not  repeat  his  question.  He  thought 
he  knew  the  answer.  Mr.  Slocumb  had  probably  refused 
to  sell  the  Sunrise  Rock  woodland.  He  had  often  refused 
to  sell  it  in  past  years. 

How  exactly  like  Kani  Natupski  was  this  sudden 
moving  of  the  dooryard  fence;  this  reckoning  on  the 
tears  of  two  women  to  give  him  what  he  meant  to  have. 
Yet  who  could  say  it  was  not  absolutely  just  that  Abner 
Slocumb  should  pay  what  he  owed? 

Stanislarni  rushed  by  Slocumb's  without  so  much  as  a 
nod  to  Mr.  Slocumb,  whereat  Abner  was  really  hurt.  He 
went  into  the  barn  and  told  the  horse. 

In  the  house  Nancy  was  elaborately  busy  ignoring  eyes 
like  boiled  gooseberries. 

"  That  the  oldest  Natupski  boy  went  by  ?  "  she  pres- 
ently asked. 

"Yep." 

"  Stop  to  pass  the  time  of  day  ?  " 

"  Well,  no.    But  I  cal'ate  he  was  in  a  hurry." 

"  Nothing  the  sort.  His  father  's  had  him  up  on  Sun- 
rise Rock,  and  back  and  forth  they  walked  like  nothing 
on  earth  so  much's  them  two  in  the  New  Testament  that 
went  into  a  High  Place  and  One  was  tempted." 

"  Sh !    That's  sacrilegious,  Nance." 

"  Well,  I  don't  feel  perticular  meek,  and  I  don't  be- 
lieve a  word  of  that  promise  about  their  inheriting  the 
earth.  G'long  out  and  do  the  chores.  I'll  have  supper 
in  half  an  hour." 

Abner  went,  knowing  she  needed  fifteen  minutes  for 


OLD  BILLS  TO  PAY  315 

another  cry.  Poor  Nance,  she  was  taking  it  hard.  It  was 
the  first  time  he  had  ever  stood  out  against  her,  in  all 
their  married  life.  She  wouldn't  have  shed  a  tear  if  he'd 
let  the  woodlot  go;  it  was  the  shame  of  that  fence  under 
the  sitting  room  window  that  was  breaking  her  heart. 

"  Darn  it  all,"  he  said,  harking  back  a  couple  of  de- 
cades, "  why  couldn't  the  town  have  bought  of  Mrs. 
Judson  Buckland  for  a  pest  house?  " 

Abner  Slocumb  just  wouldn't  acknowledge  that  his 
predicament  was  due  to  the  easy  and  procrastinating 
habits  of  the  Slocumbs. 

Others  wouldn't  acknowledge  it,  either. 

Halfway  to  the  depot  Solomon  Russell,  driving  a  new 
little  chunk,  offered  Stanislarni  a  lift. 

"  Git  in,"  said  Solomon,  to  Stanislarni,  and  then  "  Git 
down  "  he  said  to  the  brown  dog  that  was  occupying  half 
his  seat.  For  a  good  many  years  Solomon  had  won  the 
derision  of  West  Holly  by  letting  himself  be  bossed  round 
by  a  series  of  dogs,  of  which  this  was  the  third.  Like 
Mrs.  Natupski,  Solomon  stood  somewhat  in  awe  of 
Stanislarni,  so  "  Git  down  where  you  belong,  sir,  on  the 
bottom  the  buggy,"  he  repeated  to  the  animal,  adding 
"  I'm  going  to  bring  this  one  up  right.  The  others  kind 
o'  got  round  me,  but  you  see  I  hadn't  any  experience  with 
the  first  feller,  and  I  cosseted  the  second  'cause  I  was  feel- 
ing so  bad  the  other  had  to  die.  But  this  one'll  toe  the 
mark.  I'm  learning  him  manners.  He  was  just  setting 
up  here  now  as  a  reward  for  being  good  and  riding 
where  he  belonged  yesterday." 

Stanislarni  laughed,  and  sat  down  on  several  million 
dog  hairs.  "  You  think  dogs  have  fine  memories,  Mr. 
Russell,"  he  observed. 


316  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

Solomon  also  laughed.  "  You  won't  believe  it,  for 
young  men  nowadays  don't  believe  nothing,  but  the 
average  dog's  got  twicet  the  memory  of  the  average 
man." 

"  That  doesn't  apply  to  West  Holly  men,"  said  Stanis- 
larni.  "  I'm  told  that  meetings  of  the  committee  in 
charge  of  that  great  celebration  we're  going  to  have  when 
the  town's  250  years  old  can't  get  down  to  business  be- 
cause the  West  Holly  contingent  reminisces  so  much." 

*  I  wonder,"  said  Solomon  Russell,  with  the  excessively 
simple  air  he  admired  to  put  on  when  he  was  about  to  say 
something  malicious,  "if  they  ever  tell  that  old 
story  about  how  your  pa  was  like  to  been  rid  out  on  a 
rail?" 

"  I  wonder !  "  exclaimed  Stanislarni.  "  Let  me  see, 
that  must  have  been  when  I  was  about " 

"  You  was  said  to  be  four  year  old,"  put  in  Russell, 
with  the  promptness  of  a  man  who  is  always  pat  with  the 
dates  and  details  of  other  folks'  affairs.  "  Arterward 
I  believe  a  few  years  was  added  so's  you  could  fool  the 
Mifflin  Mills.  But  I  guess  you  weren't  more'n  five,  any- 
how. It  was  right  arter  you  ma  got  here  from  Poland, 
fetching  you  and  your  brother — the  one  that  was  such  a 
pickle  till  you  took  him  in  hand  and  steadied  him  down. 
Folks  round  West  Holly  was  kind  o'  put  out  the  way 
your  father  deceived  'em.  They  was  about  ready  to 
make  him  git,  bag  and  baggage,  and  I  don't  think  their 
methods  would  o'  been  none  too  gentle,  either.  They  was 
all  r'iled  up.  Funny  to  think  how  things  come  out,  ain't 
it?  I've  wondered  a  good  deal,  lately,  if  Abner 
Slocumb'd  been  quite  so  strenuous  on  the  Natupski  side 
if  he  could  have  seen  into  the  future." 


OLD  BILLS  TO  PAY  317 

"I  wonder?  "  said  Stanislarni  again.  "  He  put  up  a^ 
good  fight  for  my  father,  didn't  he  ?  " 

"  Sure  he  did.  Right  in  Deestrict  Seven  School,  with 
Bowes  in  the  chair  and  me  on  the  dunces'  block.  Going 
to  git  off  here?    Well,  goo' night." 

Solomon  drove  away,  helping  the  dog  to  scramble  on 
the  seat,  and  happy  in  having  given  the  Natupski  boy 
something  to  think  about. 

Stanislarni  abruptly  plunged  into  a  field  grown  up  to 
young  birch,  and  breasted  the  bushes  until  he  was  hidden 

from  the  road.    Then  he  took  off  his  hat  and  let  the  wind 

1 

cool  his  forehead,  which  was  in  a  glow  from  Solomon 
Russell's  story.  Stanislarni  had  never  heard  it  before, 
though  he  had  mendaciously  encouraged  Solomon  by 
pretending  to  know  it  well. 

After  the  still  spring  evening  had  done  its  soothing 
best  Stanislarni  resumed  the  road.  The  next  day  he 
came  out  to  West  Holly  again.  Folks  who  saw  him  go 
by  were  of  the  opinion  that  he  was  snooping  round  to 
help  his  father  in  something  nefarious  which  was  prob- 
ably worthy  of  admiration  because  bound  to  be  a  financial 
success.  The  set  of  his  shoulders  was  said  to  indicate  a 
masterful  disposition,  and  there  was  a  good  deal  Daniel 
Websterlike  in  his  massive  head.  "  Going  to  see  your 
folks  again  ?  "  they  asked.  "  You  don't  usually  visit 
'em  two  days  running ! " 

"  This  time,"  smiled  Stanislarni,  "  I'm  going  to  call  on 
a  lady." 

It  was  only  Miss  Juletta  Pinkney,  and  that  every  one 
knew.  Returning  to  West  Holly  at  twenty-one  Stanis- 
larni had  immediately  started  to  cultivate  affection  for 


318  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

Miss  Pinkney,  a  brisk  ninety.  She  had  not,  one  observes, 
kept  her  promise  to  her  mother's  picture. 

Stanislarni  went  to  the  south  door,  raised  the  shining 
knocker,  and  was  admitted  by  the  glum- faced  house- 
keeper who  sometimes  changed  her  personality,  because 
West  Holly  was  such  a  forsaken  place  to  work  out  in, 
but  whose  face  was  always  glum. 

Stanislarni  took  four  steps  up  the  long  flight  and 
entered  the  north  room.  Julia  Farrar  was  standing  by 
the  window.  She  used  to  totter  on  her  feet  for  hours, 
talking  to  Juletta,  and  preserving  the  fiction  that  she  was 
going  the  next  minute. 

"  My  eye  and  Betty  Martin,"  she  said  to  Stanislarni, 
"  doesn't  my  sister  hold  her  age?  " 

"  I've  just  found  an  example,"  said  Juletta,  "  in 
mother's  family.  We  never  used  to  speak  of  them,  but 
they  were  Hallowells,  and  their  history  has  been  put  in  a 
volume.  My  double  great  grandmother  has  this  on  her 
gravestone : 

Sprightly  I  walked  life's  journey  through 
Till  I  arrived  at  ninety-two, 
'And  then  deferred  my  trip  to  heaven 
Till  all  my  years  was  one  and  seven. " 

Julia  Farrar  nodded  at  Stanislarni.  "  See  the  stent 
she's  setting  herself,"  said  Julia,  and  disarranged  her 
teeth  giggling,  so  that  she  had  to  totter  across  the  hall 
into  her  own  domain. 

Miss  Pinkney  and  Stanislarni  had  discovered  they  were 
affinities  in  the  inconsequential  way  such  affairs  are  usu- 
ally arranged.    Stanislarni  had  looked  nextdoor  one  day 


OLD  BILLS  TO  PAY  319 

and  observed  that  there  was  the  quaint  old  lady  who  used 
to  speak  so  sharply  to  the  Natupski  children  if  they  ven- 
tured to  pick  anything  over  the  fence.  At  the  same  mo- 
ment Miss  Pinkney  noticed  what  a  great  hulking  youth 
that  oldest  Natupski  was.  He  removed  his  hat — he  was 
wearing  one  of  those  cheap  Panamas  that  you  fold  into 
your  pocket  if  it  rains.  She  never  forgot  his  hat.  Then 
he  bowed  and  showed  his  white  teeth  in  a  wide  smile. 

"  Come  up  and  see  me,  young  sir,"  called  Juletta,  in  her 
clear  old  voice,  and  "  By  all  means,"  returned  Stanislarni 
in  his  youthful  roar.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  amaze- 
ment when  he  continued  to  go  in  and  out  of  the  South 
door,  but  after  a  while  it  died  down.  As  we  know,  West 
Holly  could  get  used  to  anything. 

Stanislarni  seemed  to  find  all  the  feminine  society  he 
wished  in  that  North  room.  He  often  mused,  loverlike, 
over  Miss  Pinkney's  fleece  of  white  hair,  and  her  soft 
hand,  on  which  sparkled  a  valuable  diamond.  Julia 
Farrar  had  given  her  the  diamond  on  her  eightieth  birth- 
day. Julia  Farrar  often  gave  her  things  like  that,  saying 
she  didn't  see  any  need  of  swapping  wash  rags  for 
presents  just  because  they  were  old.  Youth  had  youth, 
that  was  about  enough.  Let  old  age  have  the  gim- 
cracks. 

The  romantic  affection  Juletta  had  conserved  when  she 
was  very  young  and  wooed  by  Hiram  Farrar  and  others 
she  freely  gave  to  Stanislarni.  Perhaps  it  was  hardly 
worth  while  to  keep  it  any  longer.  She  listened  for  hours 
to  his  plans,  and  told  him  plainly  when  she  thought  his 
neckties  were  abominable,  calling  them  cravats. 

Stanislarni  sat  down  in  a  wing  chair  and  beamed  at 
Miss  Pinkney  in  another.     The  windows  were  full  of 


320  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

hyacinths  and  Juletta  wore  a  hyacinth-colored  gown  and 
a  white  crepe  shawl.  A  slow  fire  smoldered  behind  the 
brass  fender.  Sometimes  the  blue  smoke  came  down  the 
chimney  instead  of  going  up;  the  smell  of  resinous  wood 
was  then  added  to  the  perfume  of  flowers. 

"  You're  not  talking,"  said  Juletta. 

"  I  don't  want  to  talk,"  said  Stanislarni. 

"  Well,  don't  then,  till  you  feel  you  want  to,"  replied 
Juletta,  and  added  something  to  future  years  by  taking  a 
nap.  When  she  opened  her  eyes  she  was  met  by  Stanis- 
larni's  smile.  She  always  thrilled  at  that  smile.  It  told 
her  that  if  anything  happened  to  Hiram  Farrar  and  Julia 
— and  they  were  none  so  robust — she  would  not  be  left 
uncared  for. 

"  I  want  you  to  tell  me,"  said  Stanislarni,  "  about  the 
three  farms — yours,  my  father's,  and  Mr.  Slocumb's. 
Who  owned  the  land  originally?" 

"  The  Slocumbs  came  a  little  the  first,"  Juletta  ad- 
mitted, sadly.  "  The  first  Slocumb  got  it  from  the  Injuns. 
Then  our  ancestor,  Primus  Pinkney,  took  a  grant  from 
the  Mifflin  settlers,  who  claimed  everything  in  the  Out- 
ward Commons,  and  he  and  the  Slocumbs  fixed  up  a 
boundary." 

"  Land  wasn't  worth  so  much  in  those  days,"  put  in 
Julia  Farrar.  "  'Twas  about  all  they  had.  And  trees — 
they  burned  'em  to  get  shut  of  'em." 

"  And  some  time  my  father's  farm  was  carved  out?  " 

"  Yes.  A  Buckland  bought  fifty  acres  from  each,  and 
so  it  went  down  to  Judson  and  Mrs.  Judson.  I've  heard 
there  was  considerable  feeling  against  the  first  Buckland. 
He  was  from  Canada  and  folks  called  him  a  foreigner." 

"And  then  came  my   father  from  Poland — a   real 


OLD  BILLS  TO  PAY  321 

foreigner !    I  learned  yesterday  how  excited  West  Holly 
got  over  his  arrival." 

"  Mr.  Abner  Slocumb,"  Juletta  went  on,  "  was  always 
a  friend  to  your  folks." 

"  I  remember  a  good  many  cakes  and  little  kindnesses," 
said  Stanislarni. 

"  There  was  probably  other  matters,  too,"  said  Ju- 
letta, "  though  I  can't  recall  them.  I  had  troubles  of  my 
own  about  that  time.  But  when  it  comes  to  settling  ac- 
counts between  the  Natupskis  and  the  Slocumbs  you 
mustn't  let  your  father  forget  the  debts  he  owes.  On 
this  side,  now,  it's  different.  The  Natupskis  owe  the 
Pinkneys  nothing " 

"  Two  pink  luster  saucers,"  came  in  sepulchral  tones 
from  the  next  room. 

"  What  ?  "  roared  Stanislarni,  startled. 

"  I  said,  two  pink  luster  saucers." 

Juletta  smiled  and  Julia  Farrar  rambled  to  the  door 
so  she  might  be  seen  snickering.  For  some  eighteen  years 
the  tragedy  of  the  saucers  had  served  the  ladies  as  a  joke. 
They  used  to  wrap  the  cups  in  bulky  parcels  and  present 
them  to  each  other  Christmases.  Juletta  had  found  the 
diamond  ring  inside  one  cup,  the  cup  being  in  a  sawdust 
filled  oyster  keg. 

Stanislarni  put  the  story  of  the  auction  into  that  corner 
of  his  mind  where  he  kept  the  charming  whimsicalities  of 
Miss  Juletta,  and  went  back  to  Holly,  after  a  brief  call 
on  his  mother,  whose  cheeks  were  still  salty.  He  was 
hurrying  to  the  trolley,  when  a  woman  tumped  on  a 
parlor  window  and  beckoned  him  to  go  round  to  the  door. 
The  woman  was  Mrs.  Judson  Buckland,  now  so  fleshy 
that  a  calico  pony  would  have  been  hard  put  to  it  to 


322  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

drag  her  about.  So  she  stayed  at  home  and  made  folks 
come  to  her.    She  was  still  the  free-and-easy  sort. 

"  Here,  young  feller,"  said  she,  "  I  understand  your 
father's  going  to  put  the  screws  on  Abner  Slocumb  and 
squeeze  him  till  he  hollers  for  help.  What  I'm  going  to 
tell  would  make  a  sight  of  difference  if  you'd  any  sense 
of  gratitude,  but  I  s'pose  you  ain't.  And  at  that  it  may 
be  some  use  in  showing  what  a  fool  Slocumb  always 
was.  The  first  payment  your  father  made  after  mov- 
ing in  was  three  dollars  too  much.  Slocumb  found  it 
out  and  over  he  goes  and  gives  your  pa  three  dollars  outen 
his  own  pocket,  pretending  I'd  sent  it  by  him.  Your  pa 
told  me  about  it  next  time  I  called,  before  I  could  open 
my  head  to  say  a  word.  Now  it's  nothing  against  your 
folks  to  say  three  dollars  about  then  probably  looked 
as  big  as  three  thousand  would  about  now.  Don't  set 
there  staring  at  the  door.  I've  had  my  say  and  it's  off 
my  chest.     S'long." 

Stanislarni  had  listened  to  the  three  revelations  with 
the  unmoved  front  acquired  when  undergoing  mental 
hazing  in  early  college  days.  They  had  really  impressed 
him  deeply;  and  he  could  not  believe  they  would  not 
impress  his  father.  The  next  day  he  invited  his  father 
to  come  up  on  Sunrise  Rock  and  have  a  talk.  Mrs. 
Natupski  watched  them,  through  tears.  She  climbed  into 
the  garret  and  peeped  from  a  window  festooned  with 
dead  wasps  and  the  carcasses  of  flies  in  spider  webs. 

They  talked  a  long  time.  They  pointed.  Kani  once 
lashed  several  trees.  Finally  they  shook  hands,  like  a 
couple  of  Americans.  She  stumbled  downstairs,  unable 
to  see  for  weeping. 

The  men  were  also  watched  from  next  door.     Nancy 


OLD  BILLS  TO  PAY  323 

Slocumb  had  climbed  to  her  garret  to  spy,  only,  of  course, 
she  looked  forth  between  festoons  of  red  peppers  and 
green  "  yarbs." 

Up  on  Sunrise  Rock  they  were  saying  something  like 
this: 

"  What  d'ye  think,  father,  of  a  man  who  don't  pay 
his  just  bills?" 

Kani  Natupski,  seeing  a  connection  with  the  Slocumb 
mortgage,  launched  forth  into  a  long  description  of  what 
he  thought  of  such  a  man.  He  could  not  say  all  he 
thought  on  the  subject  in  English.  He  took  refuge  in  the 
speech  of  his  native  land.  But  he  ended  in  good  West 
Holly,  "  Slocumb  not  pay  me  slap  up  me  send  um  side- 
winder knock  um  slantindicular." 

"  What  d'ye  think,  father,  of  men  who  don't  pay  debts 
of  the  kind  money  can't  settle  ?  " 

Then  Kani  Natupski  got  up  and  banged  the  trees.  His 
son  was  a  fool.  What  if  Mrs.  Slocumb  was  always 
putting  pieces  of  pie  over  the  fence?  The  Natupskis 
didn't  want  her  pie.  He  never  ate  pie,  even  when  'Statia 
tried  to  make  him.    A  money  debt  was  the  only  debt. 

Stanislarni  made  him  pause  and  listen  to  a  story  of 
the  time  when  all  West  Holly  had  been  on  the  point  of 
driving  the  Natupskis  from  town  and  Abner  Slocumb 
had  stopped  them.  It  did  not  impress  Kani  Natupski. 
He  lacked  imagination  to  put  himself  back  in  those  days, 
just  as  he  had  lacked  imagination  to  put  himself  back  in 
Poland  by  Marinki,  when  he  married  Olka. 

Then  Stanislarni  told  what  his  voice  trembled  to  speak 
of — that  pitiful  little  deception  of  the  three  dollars.  But 
Kani  Natupski  had  known  that  long  ago.  And  he 
sneered  when  reminded  of  Mrs.  Slocumb's  kindnesses. 


324  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

All  this  vexed  Kani.  He  knew  what  it  meant.  Stanis- 
larni  wanted  him  to  be  good  to  the  old  fellow.  Probably 
he  wanted  to  take  the  mortgage  into  his  own  hands,  and 
be  an  easy  creditor,  like  the  one  Slocumb  had  a  long 
time  ago. 

"  Stroke  the  cat  and  go  off  with  nothing,  while  me 
pay  M's  Buckland  slam  bang  up,"  grumbled  the  father. 

"  No,"  said  Stanislarni,  "  I  don't  intend  to  try  to  buy 
the  mortgage,  and  I  don't  want  you  to  make  me  a  present 
of  it." 

li  Sure  not ! "  Kani  was  in  a  terrible  hurry  to  avoid 
being  considered  capable  of  such  a  foolish  action. 

"  I  want  you,  father,"  and  Stanislarni  spoke  with  as 
much  slow  impressiveness  as  he  used  when  trying  Eng- 
lish on  his  mother,  "  I  want  you  to  go,  of  your  own 
accord — because  it's  your  debt,  you  know — to  Mr.  Slo- 
cumb and  tell  him  he's  to  help  you  move  the  fence  back  to 
where  it  used  to  be,  before  the  post  holes  get  sodded 
over." 

"  A'  right,"  said  Kani.  "  He  give  me  equal  swap  on 
woodland  here.    Me  got  t'  have  woodland." 

"  No,  father,  there  is  to  be  no  bargain  whatsoever. 
Move  the  fence  back,  stop  mamma  and  Mrs.  Slocumb 
crying,  and  let  things  go  on  as  they  will.  I'm  going  to 
propose  a  new  crop  to  Mr.  Slocumb — strawberries,  and 
take  them  every  day  to  Mifflin  in  the  auto.  Miss  Pink- 
ney  says  all  round  here  was  what  the  Indians  called  Min- 
nichogue — berry  land.  I  think  you'll  get  your  interest 
yet." 

"  Dam' !  "  said  Kani.  "  Interests  to  hell !  Me  don't 
want  interest.  Don't  want  dooryard.  Want  woodland 
— jus'  woodland." 


OLD  BILLS  TO  PAY  325 

"  But  what  for  ?  You've  got  all  the  wood  we  can 
burn  in  a  couple  of  lifetimes." 

Kani  thrust  his  head  out  and  down  in  a  way  he  had, 
and  looked  as  if  doubtful  whether  to  butt  the  person 
vexing  him  or  to  dash  his  brains  forth  in  a  fury  of 
revenge.    Finally  he  spoke. 

"  Me  and  Anton  got  plan.  Keep  awful  still,  so  folks 
sell  cheap.  Me  got — how  you  call  it? — option  on  woods 
way  to  top  mountain.  Bowes  sell — he  got  lots  more — 
Solomon  Russell  sell.  Everybody  sell,  only  Slocumb. 
Slocumb  must  sell,  so  wood  can  be  brought  down  this 
way,  over  my  land.    Other  ways  too  steep,  too  far." 

"  But — father — you  wouldn't  chop  off  the  mountain?  " 
Stanislarni  was  not  born  in  this  country,  but  he  felt  all 
the  sentiment  of  West  Holly,  that  chopping  off  the 
mountain  was  a  revolution. 

"  Ei  ?  Make  us  rich.  Big  tree,  growing  long  'fore  we 
come  from  Poland.     Growing  for  us." 

Stanislarni  put  a  protecting  hand  on  the  towering  pine 
by  his  side  and  wondered.  Had  these  trees  grown  for 
his  father  and  Anton  just  as  other  trees  had  grown  for 
the  first  Slocumbs  or  Pinkneys  ?  They  burned  those  not 
needed  for  cabins  and  barns.  His  father  would  make 
money  with  those  falling  to  his  share.  Was  there  a 
difference  ? 

Yes,  Stanislarni  felt  there  was  a  difference,  and  he 
must  study  it  out.  His  father  had  found  a  country 
ready  made  and  had  taken  advantage  of  its  offerings. 
And  first,  at  any  rate,  he  must  be  forced  to  pay  the 
debt  to  Abner  Slocumb. 

"  I  think  you're  going  to  do  what  I  suggest,  father," 
he  said,  "  because — because " 


326  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

"  Because  what  for  ?  " 

"  Because "  Stanislarni  looked  Pinkney  way  and 

thought  what  Miss  Juletta  had  told  him,  "  because, 
father,  I  learned  yesterday  of  another  debt  you  owe — 
a  real  money  debt.  You  have  been  owing  it  many  years. 
But  I  intend  to  pay  it,  father,  for  you !  " 

It  was  then  Kani  got  up,  self-accused  of  one  knows 
not  what  bewildering  tangle  with  American  finances  in 
his  early  West  Holly  days,  and  the  watching  women 
saw  hands  shaken. 

The  fence  was  moved,  Nancy  Slocumb  wiped  her  eyes 
and  entertained  the  juvenile  Slocumbs  at  tea,  while  Abner 
planned  strawberries  for  another  year — for  he  had 
always  been  best  on  planning.  Stanislarni  alone  fell 
down. 

He  went  to  Boston  for  the  sole  purpose  of  finding 
two  pink  luster  saucers,  entered  all  the  antique  stores  on 
Boylston  Street,  and  took  part  in  the  following  conversa- 
tion: 

"  What  would  you  want  for  two  pink  luster  saucers  to 
match  this  cup?  " 

(He  had  filched  one  of  the  precious  cups,  with  the  con- 
nivance of  Hiram  Farrar.) 

"  About  ten  dollars  each " 

"  Here's  the  money " 

"  If  I  had  any  such.    But  I  haven't." 

So  the  cup  was  sneaked  back  to  live  out  a  saucerless 
old  age  with  its  fellow.  However  Stanislarni  trusted 
he  might  yet  be  able  to  settle  the  debt  in  some  other  way. 


LORDS   OF  THE  LAND 

"  Nie,"  said  Kani  Natupski.  u  Me  not  go.  Can't  go. 
Old  sow,  she  threaten." 

Stanislarni  was  urging  him  to  take  an  interest  in  the 
250th  anniversary  of  Holly's  founding. 

"  Nie,"  persisted  Kani.  "  Old  sow,  she  threaten.  Me 
to  home.    You  and  Stepan  ride  in  automobile  machine." 

There  was  special  bitterness  in  this  last  direction. 
Stepan  and  Stanislarni  had  written  a  poem  which  saw 
light  in  the  Hamson  Chronotype,  stirred  West  Holly  to 
its  foundations,  and  drove  Kani  Natupski  to  a  point 
where  he  would  have  up  stakes  and  returned  to  his 
native  land  but  for  the  great  war  and  hope  of  cutting 
off  the  mountain. 

Stepan  had  presented  it  as  a  "  theme  "  to  Miss  Olive 
Greene,  while  conscientiously  declaring,  "  I  made  the 
words,  but  my  brother  told  me  the  thoughts." 

The  last  were  the  outcome  of  a  lecture  by  one  of 
those  of  "  alien  birth "  whose  patronizing  Stanislarni 
deplored. 

"  Will  all  the  immigrants  before  me  stand  up,"  said 
the  lady,  and  when  some  half-dozen  arose  out  of  an 
audience  of  two  hundred,  "  Oh,"  said  she,  scornfully,  "  I 
see  I  am  addressing  the  Lords  of  the  Land,"  and  lam- 
basted them  unmercifully. 

327 


328  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

Stanislarni  talked  his  feelings  out  in  the  presence  of 
Stepan,  with  this  result: 

An  old  New  England  theme,  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  came 
To  worship  as  they  would,  make  others  do  the  same. 
They  cleared  the  land  of  trees,  began  Thanksgiving  Day; 
They  cleared  the  rattlers  off,  in  safety  made  their  hay; 
They  cleared  the  Redskins  out,  nor  left  a  single  stand; 
The  Hessians  then  cleared  off,  and  they  Lords  of  the 
Land. 

They'd  conquered  ev'ry  foe,  then  to  improve  hard  by 
They  slipped  each  man  a  vote,  invented  pumpkin  pie, 
Made  poverty  vamoose,  taught  ignorance  to  flee, 
And  set  a  schoolhouse  red  where'er  a  church  might  be. 
The  nice  girls  "service  took,"  the  men  worked  hand  in 

hand, 
Yet  each  one  for  himself,  and  each  Lord  of  the  Land. 

And  then  the  Irish  rushed  from  England's  bulldog  jaws, 
As  cops  to  carry  out,  as  statesmen  make,  our  laws; 
Polanders  came  to  learn,  yet  still  evade  the  schools; 
Italians  longed  to  die  unvexed  by  hygiene's  rules. 
And  still  they  herd  in  slums,  and  will  not  understand 
Ten  in  a  room  by  night  don't  make  Lords  of  the  Land. 

You  were  an  alien  folk  who  now  are  native  sons, 
Yet  clung  you  to  the  old  as  do  these  other  ones? 
Nay,  nay;  'tis  writ  that  you  oft  cooked  the  Indian  corn 
In  Indian  ways  before  the  first  white  child  was  born; 
And  no  man  whined  for  help  who  in  cowhides  could 

stand 
And  work  till  he  became  a  real  Lord  of  the  Land. 


LORDS  OF  THE  LAND  329 

You  would  the  stranger  hordes,  who  make  you  question 

"Why?" 
Would  cut  the  black  bread  out  and  learn  New  England 

pie, 
Your  menus  and  your  screens,  your  schools  and  bathtubs, 

yea, 
And  to  these  stranger  hordes  just  this  you  have  to  say — 
"  New  Pilgrim  Fathers  be,  go  cultivate  their  sand, 
Then  hence  three  hundred  years  you'll  strut,  Lords  of  the 

Land." 

Miss  Olive  Greene  didn't  know  exactly  what  to  make 
of  this,  so  she  marked  it  with  a  double  a,  and  said,  "  Go 
cultivate  their  sand,"  wasn't  a  respectful  manner  of 
speech  about  a  Pilgrim  Father.  Then  she  showed  it  to 
Miss  Fanny  Atwood  of  the  Chronotype  aforesaid. 

Kani  Natupski  had  clippings  of  the  verses  in  all  his 
pockets.  He  would  take  them  out  and  try  to  read  them 
and  then  go  and  beat  a  fence  post.  Telling  him  he  must 
stay  three  hundred  years  in  this  America  before  he  would 
be  a  Lord  of  the  Land !  He,  with  an  option  on  the  timber 
privilege  of  Holly  Mountain. 

This  option  was  on  the  verge  of  being  closed.  The 
logs  would  be  snaked  down  to  a  pentway,  as  Abner 
Slocumb  had  proved  obdurate.  It  would  result  in  cash 
in  the  pockets  of  at  least  five  men,  and  utter  destruction 
to  Holly's  chief  beauty  and  principal  source  of  water 
supply. 

"  I  say,"  said  Abner  Slocumb  to  Stanislarni,  one  June 
evening,  "  would  you  like  to  take  a  walk  with  me  begin- 
ning at  Sunrise  Rock  and  ending  at  Rattlesnake  Peak? " 

"  No,"  said  Stanislarni,  who  shrank  from  any  dis- 


330  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

cussion  of  his  father  these  days.  It  was  not  seemly  to 
be  always  quarreling  with  one's  father. 

"  Didn't  suppose  you  would,"  said  Abner ;  "  come 
along." 

They  paused  but  a  moment  at  Sunrise  Rock,  then 
plunged  into  the  forest,  and  over  the  carpet  of  brown 
leaves,  bordered  with  brakes  and  beautified  by  a  pattern 
of  partridge  vines,  made  their  way  upward.  Perhaps 
it  was  forest  primeval,  at  any  rate  these  were  trees  to 
whose  growth  more  than  one  century  had  contributed. 
Pines,  hemlocks,  maples,  with  here  and  there  a  splendid 
"  paper  birch  "  of  ghostly  white  stem ;  to  walk  among 
them  was  like  walking  in  a  Hans  Andersen  story. 

"  We  better  enjoy  it,"  said  Abner,  chewing  sassafras 
leaves.  "  It's  the  last  time  we'll  want  to  come  up  here. 
I  never  had  any  heart,  myself,  for  a  place  that's  been 
cut  off.  Makes  me  think  of  what  I  imagine  a  battlefield 
might  be.  Nature  don't  do  her  work  so  vi'lent  and 
sudden.  Course  we  can  imitate  nature  and  take  out  a 
tree  here  and  there  year  after  year,  but  that  ain't  the 
road  to  fortune." 

"  I  wish  you'd  shut  up,"  said  Stanislarni. 

"  I  know  you  do,"  said  Abner.  "  Did  you  ever  see 
anything  prettier  than  the  sunshine  creeping  down  be- 
twixt those  walnuts?  And  look  at  the  white  rabbits 
whooping  it  up  in  that  clearing  'mongst  the  everlast- 
ing blossoms !  Next  year  I  suppose  this  won't  be  nothing 
but  stumps  and  raggedy  sumachs  and  general  destruc- 
tion." 

"  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  it,"  said  Stanislarni. 

"  Of  course  you  can't,"  returned  Abner  Slocumb. 
"  Yet  after  all  why  shouldn't  it  be  chopped  off  and  some 


LORDS  OF  THE  LAND  331 

newcomers  get  the  benefit?  I  d'  know  as  my  folks  was 
particular  considerate  of  the  rights  and  wishes  of  those 
that  come  afore  'em,  back  in  the  seventeenth  century. 
I  presume  the  Injuns  thought  considerable  of  their 
woods,  where  they'd  chased  the — well,  whatever  they 
chased — and  made  trail  marks  on  the  trees  and  camped 
and  been  masters  of  all  they  surveyed.  Yet  they  said 
1  What  cheer  ? '  to  Roger  Williams  down  in  Providence 
Plantations  after  the  Puritans  had  driv  him  out,  and  I 
understand  they  sold  to  my  ancestor  for  a  jug  o'  fire- 
water and  a  ole  gun." 

"  They  didn't  see  the  future,"  said  Stanislarni. 

"  No.  And  I  wonder  sometimes  if  we  Americans  saw 
it.  If  we  had  we  wouldn't  have  cut  and  slashed  and 
forgotten  those  that  was  to  come  after  us,  and  dried  up 
the  water  courses  and  been  generally  me  for  myself  and 
the  devil  take  the  hindmost.  Well,  here  we  be  on  Rat- 
tlesnake Peak.  I  ain't  got  no  posterity,  so  I  ain't  no 
call  to  regret  this  one  place  can't  be  left  for  'em.  Climb 
up  the  ladder  into  that  topmost  tree,  Stanislarni.  They 
say  you  can  see  the  dome  of  the  state  house  to  Hartford 
from  it." 

"  I  don't  care  a  hoorah  in  hell  for  the  state  house  at 
Hartford,"  said  Stanislarni. 

"  Sure  not.  Well,  then  let's  go  home-along.  And  I 
want  to  talk  with  you  about  your  future,  Stanislarni, 
which  is  a  darn  sight  more  importance  than  any  old  pine 
tree.  I  s'pose  you're  perfectly  satisfied  to  boss  a  motor 
truck  all  your  life?  " 

"  No,"  said  Stanislarni,  "  I'm  not.  You  know  well 
enough  I'm  not,  Mr.  Slocumb.  I  just  drifted  into  that, 
because  Holly,  and  especially  West  Holly,  needed  some 


332  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

way  to  reach  a  market,  and  no  one  else  had  thought  of 
risking  an  auto  express.  I'm  making  money  and  giving 
Holly  something  that  was  badly  needed,  but  I'm  not 
contented.  Wajeiceh  can  run  the  business  now;  it  seems 
to  me  I  ought  to  be  doing  something  in  which  I  would 
use  all  the  ability  that  is  developed  by  education." 

"Does  it?"  said  Abner.  "Well,  it's  too  bad  things 
have  turned  out  the  way  they  has.  And  now  good 
night.    I  s'pose  I'll  see  you  tomorrow  in  the  parade." 

The  250  years  were  up.  Nature  smiled,  as  it  had  not 
smiled  when  the  town  was  instituted.  This  took  place, 
said  history,  in  a  terrible  storm.  The  first  settlers  of 
Holly  met  in  the  open,  to  praise  the  Lord  and  establish 
town  government;  they  were  forced  to  adjourn  to  a 
barn,  and  when  the  roof  blew  off  they  went  elsewhere. 

Now  the  town  had  an  academy,  a  railroad,  several 
churches  of  warring  denominations,  three  full  grave- 
yards, a  soldiers'  monument  at  Holly  Centre,  of  atrocious 
design;  and  the  Natupskis. 

Holly  Centre  spent  itself  on  a  parade.  Winding  under 
the  arched  elms  of  the  street,  it  was  wonderfully  im- 
pressive. First  came  the  prominent  townsmen,  with 
whom  Kani  Natupski  would  not  walk;  then  an  old-time 
Master  Buckland  disciplining  an  early  District  Seven; 
next  Mrs.  Sabrina  Perkins  churning  in  a  chaise,  as  il- 
lustration of  the  way  time  used  to  be  saved. 

Next,  the  "  Last  Indian  "  on  a  float. 

There  he  sat,  before  a  wigwam  hung  round  with  pelts. 
He  was  very  old,  one  could  see  that,  and  longing  for 
the  happy  hunting  ground.  Holly  history  said  this  one 
red  man  had  lingered  until  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth 
century  and  made  his  final  stand  on  the  mountain. 


LORDS  OF  THE  LAND  333 

This  was  an  unexpected  part  of  the  show  and  it  made 
an  amazing  appeal.  Peanuts  stopped  on  the  way  to 
parted  lips  and  jiggling  children  went  for  a  moment  un- 
scolded. 

"  Who  is  the  man  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Tweed,  over  from 
Eastfield  for  the  occasion.  "  He  has  gotten  up  the  float 
like  an  old  painting,  in  subdued  browns  and  dull  reds, 
in  keeping  with  the  sentiment.  See  the  brown  leaves 
under  foot — the  withered  pine  above  the  wigwam — the 
faded  blanket?  He  is  an  artist.  What  is  his  name? 
And  how  completely  his  face  fulfils  one's  conception  of 
the  Indian  type." 

"  That's  Stanislarni  Natupski,  ma'am,"  said  Abner 
Slocumb,  who  was  standing  near.  "  And  I  tell  you  it's 
taken  work  and  thought  to  get  up  that  living  pictur. 
That  blanket — it's  hung  outside  my  barn  fading  all 
spring.  Looks  the  spitting  image  of  an  Injun,  don't  he? 
I  heard  a  fellow  say  in  a  lecture  the  American  red  man 
favored  a  lot  of  nationalities,  and  I  believed  it  when  I 
see  Stan  Natupski  browned  up." 

Of  course  Kani  Natupski  did  not  approve  of  his  son's 
performances.  Found  at  the  close  of  day  ostentatiously 
hovering  about  the  pig-pen,  where  nothing  was  happen- 
ing, he  grunted,  "  Why  you  no  take  prize  ?  Six  week  you 
spend  painting  tent  and  making  bow  arrow,  then  you  no 
take  prize." 

"Wasn't  it  noble  of  him?"  burbled  Yadna.  "He 
gave  it  up  to  '  The  First  Settlers  '  float  because  there  was 
fifteen  on  that  and  they  rehearsed  so  much.  It  was  a  ten- 
dollar  gold  piece.    I  seen  it  with  my  own  eyes.''' 

Papa  ran  out  his  tongue  at  the  wastrel  and  ordered 
them  both  away.    They  were  disturbing  the  sow. 


334  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

Holly  Depot  had  its  innings  and  then  came  West 
Holly's  day.  Kani  Natupski  could  keep  none  of  his 
brood  at  work,  though  all  got  up  as  early  as  he  did  in 
order  that  the  weatherbeaten  house  might  burst  forth 
into  bunting.  Stanislarni  and  Stepan  proudly  surveyed 
the  huge  flag  which  covered  the  front  from  garret  to 
foundation. 

"  Good  enough,"  said  Abner  Slocumb,  from  the  bay- 
window  roof,  where  he  perched  while  nailing  the  date  of 
his  ancestor's  Indian  grant. 

Then  he  chuckled  so  he  narrowly  escaped  sliding  off 
the  roof.  "  Wonder  if  the  Perkinses  will  show  a  still?  " 
he  inquired  of  the  universe.  "  Prohibitionist  Sabrina's 
folks  was  in  the  rum  and  brandy  making  line  way  back. 
Sure,  I'm  ready  for  breakfast,  Nance,  if  it's  ready  for 
me.  West  Holly  is  all  diddled  up  and  the  doings  can't 
begin  none  too  soon  to  suit  us." 

The  first  to  issue  from  the  Natupski  house  was  Kazia, 
who  had  kept  close  to  Mrs.  Tweed  the  two  previous 
days.  That  lady  had  gone  back  to  Eastfield,  and  Kazia 
walked  in  apprehension.  It  would  seem  impossible  to 
escape  meeting  Nick  Kovinski  in  West  Holly,  should  he 
come.  Kazia  had  wanted  him  to  take  it  hard  when  she 
wrote  she  could  not  fulfil  her  promise  to  him,  but  he 
had  taken  it  with  bitter  jauntiness. 

"  Yet  he  didn't  marry  Mamie  Leary,  yet,"  thought 
Kazia,  and  wondered  why.  She  was  rather  afraid  to 
meet  him  suddenly  in  the  lush  June  country,  where  they 
had  become  lovers. 

Thinking  thus,  Kazia  stalked  along  to  the  three  corners. 
Suddenly,  from  behind  her,  came  pattering  feet,  and  to 
her  spoke  a  hurried  voice. 


LORDS  OF  THE  LAND  335 

"  Kazia,  Kazik,  did  you  see  any  one  on  a  red  motor- 
cycle with  a  car  'longside?" 

It  was  'Rinka  escaping  papa's  espionage;  'Rinka  in  a 
sport  hat,  a  striped  jacket,  white  skirt,  and  fancy  shoes. 
How  she  had  gotten  them  no  one  knows,  as  it  now  took 
all  that  Jefferson  Browne  paid  for  the  support  of  the 
twins  to  support  them. 

"  I  did  not,"  said  Kazia,  sternly.  Since  she  had  lived 
in  Eastfield  she  had  come  to  disapprove  of  'Rinka  in 
thorough  manner.  Straight  and  calm  she  stood,  look- 
ing rather  unsisterly.  Mrs.  Tweed  considered  her  a 
model,  with  plain  coiled  hair  under  an  untrimmed 
Panama  hat,  and  large  feet  in  ground  gripper  shoes. 
Mrs.  Perkins  told  Susy  that  was  the  way  a  self-respecting 
young  woman  should  turn  herself  out.  Still  Kazia  had 
not  'Rinka's  tricks  of  eyes  and  so  would  probably  miss 
some  of  life's  zest. 

"  If  you  do  see  anybody  like  that,"  gasped  'Rinka, 
"  I'll  be  down  by  the  church  shed.  We've  missed  each 
other  somehow — papa  made  me  help  him  change  the 
sow's  bedding,  and  I  had  to  dress  all  over  again.  He 
wears  a  cap  backside  to  and  yellow  giglamps." 

"  'Rinka,"  said  her  sister,  sternly,  "  I  should  think 
you'd  had  enough  of  men  to  keep  out  of  scrapes.  You 
stay  right  here  beside  me." 

"  Not  much  I  won't,"  returned  'Rinka,  swinging  her 
immaculate  skirt  skittishly.  "  You  haven't  been  home, 
Kazia,  much,  and  you  don't  know  what  a  hell  of  a  life 
papa  leads  me.  He  got  it  in  for  me  always,  and  now  he 
expects  likely  I'll  stick  around  and  be  his  nigger  slave 
till  I'm  old  as  next-door  Miss  Pinkney  for  my  keep. 
Well,  I  been  looking  for  today.     I'm  going  to  go  for  a 


336  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

ride  over  to  Mifflin  Grove.  Then  I'm  coming  back  and 
I'll  walk  in  on  papa  and  say  to  him, '  G'  by,  papa.  Here's 
where  you  get  off.'  Just  like  that.  '  Here's  where  you 
get  off.' " 

Kazia  was  amazed  to  faint  speech.  "  What  do  you 
mean — what  are  you  going  to  Mifflin  for?"  she  whis- 
pered. 

"  To  be  married,  you  big  goose.  He  don't  care  if 
Jeff  Browne  did  divorce  me." 

"  Oh,  'Rinka,"  pleaded  Kazia,  "  don't  marry " 

"  Pooh  for  you !  You're  an  old  maid,  and  like  it,  I 
s'pose.  But  I  don't  notice  papa  getting  you  to  carry  no 
swill  when  you're  round  home.  I'm  going  to  get  married 
and  that's  straight  goods." 

"  I  mean — don't  marry  in  this  underhand  way. 
Stanislarni  and  I  would  arrange  it  in  proper 
fashion " 

"Naw,"  said  'Rinka,  "  nothing  doing.  Papa'll  be  mad 
enough  to  kill  some  one,  and  I  want  him  to  be,  but  I  ain't 
mean  enough  to  get  the  rest  of  you  in  bad.  I'm  just 
going  to  break  his  heart  all  by  myself.  Listen!  I'm 
going  to  take  the  twins !  " 

Just  then  they  turned  the  corner  by  the  church  and 
Kazia  found  herself  caught  in  a  snarl  of  her  relations — 
Novia  blushing  beside  Bert  Sears,  Wajeiceh  proudly  tell- 
ing Tadcuse  how  that  the  final  clearing  of  this  bit  of  land 
as  a  green  park  on  which  to  place  the  monument  came 
from  the  action  of  three  boys  who  first  leveled  it  and 
threw  off  the  large  stones  so  they  might  play  ball 
there. 

"  Those  boys,"  observed  Wajeiceh,  with  the  air  of  a 
schoolmaster,  "  were  named  Wajeiceh  Natupski,  Frank 


LORDS  OF  THE  LAND  337 

Bowes  Seymour,  and  Shaum  Kelly.  The  neighbors 
often  referred  to  them  as  pickles,  which  was  not 
polite." 

"  You  ain't  polite,  either,"  said  Tadcuse.  "  You  said 
yourself  first.  Lookit,  what's  Kazik  making  motions 
for?" 

The  excited  sister  got  Wajeiceh  one  side  and  told  him 
the  awful  tale.    Marinka  was  going  to  elope. 

"  Good  work !  "  said  Wajeiceh. 

Kazia  grasped  him  by  the  arm  feverishly.  "  It  must 
be  stopped,"  she  declared.  "  No  one  knows  who  the 
man  is,  or  whether  he'll  support  her  and  treat  her  well. 
She's  reckless.    She  was  reckless  before." 

"  Maybe  so,"  said  Wajeiceh,  "  though  I've  got  an  idea 
the  first  affair  was  done  with  father's  full  blessing. 
Perhaps  that's  why  the  little  devil  thinks  she  can  dis- 
pense with  it  this  time.  But  you're  wrong  in  one  point. 
The  fellow'll  support  her.     Hello,  Stan!" 

Kazia  was  turning  to  wring  her  hands  for  Stanislarni's 
benefit,  but  Wajeiceh  blurted  out  the  news. 

"  'Rinka's  flew  the  coop." 

"  Good  work !  "  said  Stanislarni. 

This  unanimity  of  masculine  opinion  brought  Kazia  to 
despair.  She  burst  into  tears.  "  Brutes !  "  she  exclaimed, 
"  laughing  while  your  sister  rides  to  ruin — on  a  motor- 
cycle  " 

"  No,  no,  not  so  bad  as  that,"  said  Stanislarni,  "  only 
to  a  basement  grocery  store.  She  thinks  she'd  rather 
work  there  than  in  a  pig-pen." 

"  I  don't  blame  her,"  said  'Statia,  calmly,  as  she  joined 
the  group,  without  seeming  to  need  any  explanation  of 
the  subject  which  was  engaging  them.    Novia  also  came 


338  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

near.  "  We've  been  down  to  see  them  off,"  she  whis- 
pered, "  Bert  and  me.    'Rinka  let  me  kiss  her." 

"  They've  made  a  getaway,"  added  Yadna.  "  Round 
the  Hamson  road.  He'd  brung  a  motor  bonnet  and 
duster  for  'Rinka.  You  wouldn't  know  her  from  a  hole 
in  the  ground." 

Kazia's  indignation  had  dried  her  eyes.  "If  you  are 
all  acquainted  with  the  affair,"  she  said,  bitterly,  "  and 
all  think  it  so  fine,  why  let  it  be  a  secret  business  ?  " 

"  Sposh,"  said  Bert  Sears,  "  little  sister-in-law-to-be, 
you  don't  seem  to  be  wise." 

"  She  ain't,"  grinned  Wajeiceh,  "  she  don't  know 
'Rinka's  marrying  Nick  Kovinski !  " 

"  You  remember  who  Nick  Kovinski  is,  don't  you, 
Kazia?"  asked  'Statia,  but  Kazia  was  saved  from 
replying ! 

The  West  Holly  monument  had  to  be  dedicated,  whe- 
ther or  not  affairs  were  quiet  in  the  Natupski  family. 

So,  "  Shush,  there,  girls,"  warned  Mrs.  Perkins,  finger 
up,  "  the  exercises  are  about  to  begin."  Yadna  ran  to 
join  the  children  on  the  bank,  whose  voices  soon  rose 
more  or  less  tunefully,  but  with  all  the  freshness  and 
bravery  of  untried  youth,  asserting 

My  country,  'tis  of  thee, 
Sweet  land  of  liberty, 
Of  thee  I  sing. 

They  sang  so  loud  of  her  that  even  Kani  Natupski 
heard  it,  and  was  drawn  away  from  his  pig-pen.  Con- 
scious of  dirty  clothes,  he  slouched  behind  the  graveyard 
wall,    and   watched    every    man    take    off   his    hat   as 


LORDS  OF  THE  LAND  339 

Blanchard  Bowes  finished  his  brief  oration,  and  the 
monument  was  uncovered.  Kani  Natupski  privately 
thought  it  a  pretty  poor  affair.  Only  a  huge  boulder, 
with  a  simple  plate  of  bronze  bearing  the  names  of  two 
dozen  West  Holly  men  who  had  gone  to  fight  the  South 
in  the  '6o's,  and  of  the  few  others  who  had  carried 
guns  in  the  Revolution,  the  War  of  1812,  the  French 
and  Indian  war,  and  that  of  '98.  Small  and  unimportant 
as  West  Holly  was,  it  had  been  represented  in  every 
contest.  Abner  Slocumb  noticed  this  and  spoke  of  it 
to  Solomon  Russell. 

"  Can't  say  West  Holly  ain't  stuck  its  finger  in  every 
national  pie,"  he  observed.  "  We  may  not  figure  large 
in  census  returns,  but  we  generally  got  some  of  every- 
thing that's  going." 

"  Yes,"  said  Russell,  "  I  understand  the  sheriff's  tank- 
ing up  and  there's  liable  to  be  murder  tonight  at  Natup- 
ski's.  One  of  the  girls  has  eloped  with  young  Kovinski. 
There's  always  been  bad  blood  between  them  families." 

"  Shucks,"  said  Abner.  "  Anything  Mr.  Natupski 
does  now  has  to  measure  up  to  his  oldest  son's  ruling. 
I  guess  Stanislarni  Natupski  will  keep  murder  from 
being  did  if  he  has  to  kill  some  one  in  the  process. 
He's  strong,  Stanislarni  is,  and  dependable.  Always 
know  where  to  find  him.  His  mother  never  did  a  better 
day's  work  than  when  she  brung  up  here  with  him,  all  the 
way  from  Poland." 

And  where  was  Mrs.  Natupski  all  this  time?  Would 
not  she  have  enjoyed  seeing  her  Kazia  bravely  walking 
arm  in  arm  with  Susan  Perkins,  her  Novia  an  object  of 
envy  to  most  any  West  Holly  damsel,  her  Wajeiceh 
escorting  dignitaries  about  ?    She  and  Stepan  could  have 


34Q  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

exchanged  looks  of  understanding,  too,  as  the  flag  was 
run  up  on  the  pole  at  one  end  of  the  new  little  park. 

Mrs.  Natupski  was  not  there.  Mrs.  Natupski  was 
otherwise  engaged.  She  had  gone  to  the  Mercy  Hos- 
pital to  have  a  baby !  Her  having  the  baby  was  nothing, 
but  her  going  to  the  hospital  was  something  to  talk 
about.  The  older  children  had  insisted  on  it.  'Statia 
made  inquiries  and  arrangements,  and  Stanislarni  drove 
the  car  in  which  she  went,  accompanied  by  all  her 
daughters  of  adult  size.  It  promised  to  make  Mrs. 
Natupski's  place  in  society.  No  West  Holly  child  had 
ever  been  born  in  a  hospital. 

After  they  had  left  her  Mrs.  Natupski's  mind  reverted 
to  her  other  hospital  experience.  White  tiling,  men 
doctors,  nurses  in  starched  clothes,  and  nothing  to  do, 
nothing  at  all  to  do,  for  three  weeks.  They  wouldn't  let 
you  get  up  for  three  weeks.  And  the  baby  was  taken 
away  to  be  trained.  A  nurse  with  polyglot  linguistic 
accomplishments  took  Mrs.  Natupski  to  the  nursery, 
showed  her  the  rows  of  cribs,  and  explained  that  the 
ones  crying  were  only  taking  their  half -hour's  allowance 
of  such  exercise  to  develop  their  lungs.  Every  baby, 
she  remarked,  had  to  cry  half  an  hour  for  that  purpose. 
Mrs.  Natupski  thought  it  would  take  something  extraor- 
dinary, like  a  sharp  pin,  to  make  one  of  her  babies  cry 
that  much. 

Then  she  wanted  to  know  how  she  could  be  sure  al- 
ways of  getting  her  own,  and  the  kind  nurse  explained 
about  the  adhesive  plaster  which  was  slapped  on  the 
wrist  as  soon  as  an  infant  entered  the  world.  Quite 
contented,  Mrs.  Natupski  let  them  etherize  her,  for 
nothing  was  forbidden  patients  in  this  establishment — 


LORDS  OF  THE  LAND  341 

she  might  even  have  had  something  called  twilight  sleep, 
only  it  would  have  seemed  ridiculous  for  one  who  had 
easily  been  the  mother  of  ten. 

Sunset  came  to  West  Holly,  as  usual,  about  half  an 
hour  before  it  came  anywhere  else,  on  account  of  the 
mountain.  Abner  Slocumb  and  Stanislarni  Natupski 
took  down  their  flags.  Stanislarni  thought  the  old  house 
came  out  shabbier  than  ever  after  its  one  day  of  brave 
apparel.  He  wondered  how  he  could  keep  his  self-made 
agreement  not  to  interfere  in  his  father's  affairs.  All 
these  children — and  more — growing  up  in  filth  and  dis- 
order. A  return  of  absolute  ingratitude  to  all  Holly's 
opportunities  in  the  cutting  and  slashing  of  the  mountain. 
There  was  mother  to  consider,  too.  He  believed  she 
would  return  from  the  hospital  longing  for  something 
better  than  her  home.  He  had  caught  her  passing 
an  approving  hand  over  enamelled  paint  in  'Statia's 
kitchen. 

Stanislarni  turned  and  saw  his  father  looking,  also. 
Kani  spoke,  then,  with  the  bitterness  of  one  who  had 
long  chewed  on  the  subject. 

"  My  country  of  thee,"  said  Kani,  "  thee  I  sing. 
America.  Hell  with  America.  In  America  money,  yes. 
In  Poland,  not  so  much.  In  Poland  fathers,  mothers, 
childrens,  grandchildrens,  all  one.  Me  see  you  now. 
There  stand  you.  And  you  think — you  think  white 
paints,  green  blinds,  fine  chairs  to  rock  over  in,  tin  beds, 
plates  with  pictures  on.  You  think  better  mountain  all 
trees  than  copper  money  for  me  and  Anton.  You  all 
thinks  so.  You  all  thinks  different  from  your  papa. 
Zinzic,  c'm  here." 

The  little  boy  sidled  up,  finger  in  mouth.     He  sup- 


342  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

posed  papa  was  going  to  lick  him;  he  couldn't  tell  what 
for. 

"Zinzic,  you  like  house  made  new,  all  paint  like 
'Statia's,  and  iron  crib  and  chair-rocker  in  parlor  'stead 
celery  ?  " 

"  You  bet  you !  "  said  the  child. 

"  And  you  like  Rattlesnake  Peak  all  tree,  like  now,  or 
no  tree  but  stump  ?  " 

"  Trees !  Trees !  "  shouted  Zinzic.  "  No  trees  there, 
teacher  can't  take  us  on  bird  walks." 

Kani  Natupski  turned  away  with  a  gesture  of  despair. 
He  had  interrogated  Zinzic  as  one  apt  to  be  least  touched 
by  American  notions.  Six  years  only  in  America  and 
see  what  it  had  done  to  him!  Kani  felt  himself  alone 
in  the  world.  And  the  worst  of  it  was  that  he  was  to 
blame.  He  had  chosen  this  for  his  home  and  for  the 
home  of  his  revolting  children.  He  was  not  even  quite 
sure,  in  his  inmost  heart,  that  he  would  like  to  be  back 
in  Poland,  if  there  was  no  awful  war.  He  was  all  the 
more  strenuous  for  the  old  ways  because  he  felt  himself 
weakening  as  their  sole  representative. 

Abner  Slocumb  slouched  over,  seemingly  for  a  confab, 
but  really  to  bring  news,  gathered  by  telephone.  Nancy 
came  about  six  paces  behind  him,  which  was  the  way  she 
and  Abner  went  anywhere  together.  The  cat  nipped 
along  as  far  behind  her  as  she  was  behind  Abner. 

"  At  2 136  p.m.  this  afternoon  in  Mifflin,"  Abner  began, 
as  if  reading  it  out  of  a  newspaper,  "  Arthur  Slocumb, 
J.  of  the  P.,  united  Mr.  Nicholas  Kovinski,  Jr.,  to  Mrs. 
Marinka  Browne,  daughter  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kani  Natup- 
ski of  West  Holly.  Kindly  omit  flowers — no,  I  don't 
mean  that ! " 


LORDS  OF  THE  LAND  343 

For  a  moment  Kani's  eyes  glittered  ominously. 
Twenty  years  ago  he  would  have  given  Abner  Slocumb 
a  whip  cut,  because  that  was  the  way  one  treated  the 
bringer  of  bad  news.  Ten  years  ago  he  would  only  have 
beaten  innocent  members  of  the  family.  Now  he  stood 
still  and  breathed  hard.  Yadna,  who  believed  in  having 
it  all  out  while  the  mood  was  on,  put  an  addenda  to  the 
notice.  "  And  she  says  she's  going  to  take  the  twins, 
papa.  Her  new  man  is  got  a  grocery  store  and  little 
boys  is  awful  useful  in  a  grocery." 

"  Never  you  mind  that,"  said  Abner  Slocumb.  "  My 
second  piece  of  news'll  make  you  forget  grandchildren." 
He  resumed  his  mock  reading.  "  At  2 136  p.m.  this  after- 
noon, in  the  Mercy  Hospital,  Mrs.  Kani  Natupski  gave 
birth  to  twins,  both  boys,  and  weighing  fourteen  pounds 
in  the  lump,  unsorted.  Mother  and  children  doing  fine. 
Mother  kept  by  vi'lent  methods  from  shouldering 
babies  and  footing  it  to  West  Holly  to  show  'em 
off." 

Every  eye  in  that  dooryard  was  fixed  anxiously  on 
Kani  Natupski.  He  might  cry,  he  might  kiss  everybody 
(Slocumb  was  looking  out  apprehensively  for  such  a 
demonstration),  might  kick  Zinzic,  might  roll  on  the 
ground  and  eat  dirt. 

He  went  into  the  house  and  put  on  his  best  clothes. 

While  he  was  gone,  Abner  Slocumb  improved  the 
occasion. 

"  Well,  altogether,  you're  some  Natupskis,"  he  re- 
marked. "  Stanislarni  stirred  the  artistic  big  bugs  of 
Holly,  'Rinka's  provided  something  to  talk  about, 
'Statia's  beans  took  the  cake,  she  says " — indicating 
Nancy  by  a  thumb — "  and  now  your  ma  has  boosted  the 


344  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

population  about  two  hundred  per  cent.  And  Stepan 
wrote  a  pome.    Only  that  ain't  true. 

New  Pilgrim  Fathers  be,  go  emulate  their  sand, 
Then  hence  three  hundred  years  you'll  strut,  Lords  of  the 
Land. 

It  ain't  three  hundred  years  by  a  long  shot,  but  you 
come  pretty  nigh  to  lording  it." 

"  Remember,"  smiled  Stanislarni,  giving  Nancy  Slo- 
cumb  the  only  decent  seat  on  the  piazza,  "  there  was  pro- 
vision made  for  getting  there  sooner.  Perhaps  we've 
learned  New  England  pie  from  living  next  door  to  you." 

"This  house  certainly  needs  a  bathtub,"  said  Kazia, 
sententiously,  rousing  herself  from  a  vision  of  'Rinka 
and  Nick  drinking  beer  in  that  gaudy  Kovinski  front 
parlor.  "  I'm  glad  you  put  that  in  your  verses,  Stepan, 
though  they  don't  scan  very  well." 

"  Screens,  too,"  observed  'Statia.  "  I  tried  'em  once, 
but  the  way  papa  propped  the  door  back  they  only  kept 
flies  in." 

"  Oh,"  cried  Yadna,  "  here's  papa." 

He  had  put  on  Wajeiceh's  glossy  new  hat  for  the 
purpose  of  tossing  it  over  the  kitchen  chimney. 

"  Frolic,  my  soul,  with  thy  coat  off,"  he  shouted  in 
his  native  tongue,  and  then  lapsed  into  English.  "  Me 
mad  at  nobody.  He  happy.  Goo'  by,  'Rinka.  Some- 
time me  buy  flour  sack  off  you,  show  no  ill  feeling.  You 
two  ones — "  turning  to  Stanislarni  and  'Statia — "  shut 
up  thinking  white  paints  and  tipover  chairs.  Go  buy  'em. 
Listen  at  me.    Buy  'em." 

If  he  expected  his  children  would  wait  to  be  coaxed, 


LORDS  OF  THE  LAND  345 

he  was  disappointed.  'Statia  instantly  began  to  write  out 
a  list  at  the  suggestion  of  Mrs.  Slocumb,  Wajeiceh  said 
"  sleeping  porch,"  and  Kazia  (of  course)  "  bathroom," 
while  even  the  little  ones  spoke  for  brass  beds  and  fluffy 
rugs  that  helped  you  to  get  up  early  by  being  so  nice 
to  step  into.  From  the  advanced  state  of  their  plans  it 
was  evident  that  all  the  Natupski  family  had  been  con- 
sidering the  deficiencies  of  their  home  a  long  time. 

Kani  went  away  to  his  beloved  pig-pen,  but  soon  came 
back  and  sat  down  as  if,  for  once,  he  preferred  the  com- 
pany of  human  beings.  The  old  sow  had  grievously  dis- 
appointed him.  The  litter  was  small  and  "  all  runts." 
He  had  wasted  the  day  watching  her.  Better  to  have 
heard  the  music  and  eaten  a  good  dinner  in  the  grove. 

"  Of  wife  me  am  more  proud,"  he  remarked,  and 
repeated  it  several  times  as  an  astonishing  proposition. 
Then  he  added,  quite  of  his  own  accord,  "  Next  celebra- 
tion, tell  you  what,  me'll  go !  " 

A  promise  for  redemption  250  years  hence  seemed  to 
demand  no  comment,  but  it  had  one  from  Zinzic,  whose 
brains  sprouted  slowly.  "  Nobody  on  this  piazza'll  be 
here  then,"  he  observed,  "  unless  maybe  me." 

Abner  Slocumb  and  Stanislarni  did  not  join  in  the 
laugh.  They  had  gone  into  the  road  to  see  what  the 
cornice  of  the  old  house  would  need  before  painting, 
and  Abner  had  drawn  the  young  man  into  the  moonlit 
lane  from  which  one  could  see  the  white  face  of  Sunrise 
Rock. 

"  One  other  piece  of  news,"  he  said,  "  I  kept  for  you. 
Your  father' 11  know  it  soon  enough,  and  however  he 
feels  about  it  he  can't  help  its  happening.  The  state  is 
going  to  take  over  the  whole  of  Holly  Mountain  for  a 


346  OUR  NATUPSKI  NEIGHBORS 

reservation.  Everybody'll  get  paid  a  fair  price,  and  not 
a  tree'll  be  cut  'cept  as  it's  best  for  the  others.  And 
Holly's  to  name  the  tree  warden.  How'd  the  job  appeal 
to  you,  Stanislarni  ?  " 

Stanislarni  took  a  grip  of  something — it  turned  out 
to  be  Abner's  hand — and  said  it  was  exactly  what  would 
appeal  to  him.    But  was  he  fitted  for  the  position? 

"  No,  you  ain't,"  said  Abner,  "  nor  nobody  in  town 
ain't,  neither.  But  I  understand  there's  some  sort  of  a 
Woodman  Spare  That  Tree  college  where  you  can  go  and 
learn.  I've  talked  it  over  with  Bowes  and  old  George 
Washington  Browne,  and  they're  willing  you  should  have 
the  appointment  if  you'll  study  up.  Salary,  I'll  remark, 
probably  about  half  what  the  truck  business  brings  you 
in,  but  perhaps  you'll  sacrifice  yourself  for  glory  and 
Holly." 

"  I  will,"  said  Stanislarni,  and  stammered  out  some- 
thing about  a  debt  he  owed  the  town.  ... 

"  As  to  that,"  said  Abner,  "  the  town  owes  your  pa 
one.  Only  for  his  showing  the  danger  we  was  in  of 
losing  all  the  best  o'  the  mountain  through  private  enter- 
prise I  s'pose  we'd  never  thought  of  petitioning  the 
legislature  to  save  it." 

Stanislarni  stood  like  a  young  god  of  the  trees,  look- 
ing to  the  hills  where  lay  his  life  work.  Abner  did  not 
feel  called  upon  to  tell  him  that  he  had  bargained  for  the 
appointment  by  promising  to  throw  the  Sunrise  Rock 
piece  into  the  reservation.  That  was  what  he  had  done. 
Long  as  they  might  live  in  West  Holly,  the  Natupskis 
would  never  get  out  of  debt  to  the  Slocumbs. 

THE  END 


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PHOEBE  AND  ERNEST 

With  30  illustrations  by  R.  F.  Schabelitz.  $1.35  net. 

Parents  will  recognize  themselves  in  the  story,  and 
laugh  understandingly  with,  and  sometimes  at,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Martin  and  their  children,  Phoebe  and  Ernest. 

"We  must  go  back  to  Louisa  Olcott  for  their  equals." — Boston 
Advertiser. 

PHOEBE,  ERNEST  AND  CUPID 

Illustrated  by  R.  F.  Schabelitz.    $1.35  net. 

In  this  sequel  to  the  popular  "Phoebe  and  Ernest," 
each  of  these  delightful  young  folk  goes  to  the  altar. 

"To  all  jaded  readers  of  problem  novels,  to  all  weary  way- 
farers on  the  rocky  literary  road  of  social  pessimism  and  domes- 
tic woe,  we  recommend  'Phoebe,  Ernest  and  Cupid'  with  all  our 
hearts:  it  is  not  only  cheerful,  ifs  true." — N.  Y.  Times  Review- 

JANEY 
Illustrated  by  Ada  C.  Williamson.    $1.25  net. 
Being  the  record  of  a  short  interval  in  the  journey 

thru  life  and  the  struggle  with  society  of  a  little  girl  of 

nine. 

HENRY     HOLT     AND     COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


"THE  CHEERIEST,  HAPPIEST  BOOKS" 
By  JULIE  M.  LIPPMANN 

"BURKESES  AMY" 

A  well-to-do  New  York  girl  gives  up  going  to  Europe, 
and  takes  to  social  work  on  the  East  Side  instead.  $1.35 
net. 

"The  author  of  the  'Martha'  books  shows  here  that  she  can 
do  more  than  write  cleverly  and  make  likable  characters;  she 
proves  that  she  can  handle  a  plot  well  and  develop  a  story 
satisfactorily.  Nor  have  the  cleverness  and  the  characters  been 
omitted." — New  York  Evening  Post. 

MARTHA  BY-THE-DAY 

13th  printing,  $1.00  net. 

The  story  of  a  "Big,  kindly  Irish  char-woman,  a  marvel 
of  physical  strength  and  shrewd  humor,  who  takes  under 
her  wing  a  well-born  but  friendless  girl  whom  she  finds 
alone  and  helpless  in  New  York. 

"No  sweeter  humor  has  been  written  into  a  book." — Hartford 
Courant. 

"Cheeriest,  most  warm-hearted  and  humorous  character  since 
Mrs.  Wiggs." — Living  Age. 

MAKING  OVER  MARTHA 

5th  printing,  $1.20  net. 

This  story  follows  "Martha"  and  her  family  to  the 
country,  where  she  again  finds  a  love  affair  on  her  hands. 

"  'Martha'  brings  hard  sense  and  good  humor." — New  York 
Sun. 

MARTHA  AND  CUPID 

Tells  how  "Martha"  came  to  choose  "Sam  Slosson"  for 
her  husband,  how  she  spent  the  fund  for  her  wedding 
outfit,  solved  the  "mother-in-law"  problem,  etc.  $1.00 
net. 

HENRY     HOLT     AND     COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


Stories     of     the      Mexican     Border 
(By  EUGENE  MANLOVE  RHODES 


Good  Men  and  True 

Illustrations  by  H.  T.  Dunn.    3rd  printing.    $1.00  net. 

A  tense  but  humorous  tale  of  a  brave  young  man  in 
deadly  peril  on  our  Texan  border.  The  "Remington"  in 
the  case  is  not  a  rifle  but  a  typewriter. 

"About  as  good  as  it  could  be  made." — Springfield  Republican. 

"As  genuine  a  comedy  of  bloodshed  as  the  literature  of  American 
manners  can  furnish." — Living  Age. 


Bransford  in  Arcadia 

With  frontispiece.    $1.20  net. 

Jeff  Bransford  is  the  same  natural,  humorous,  and  capa- 
ble son  of  the  soil  as  in  "Good  Men  and  True."  But  in 
this  story  he's  in  love  as  well  as  deadly  peril. 

"  Eugene  Manlove  Rhodes  really  does  give  one  the  sense  of  an  enormous 
gusto  blowing  straight  from  the  Western  Plains.  "—New  York  Evening  Post. 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

Illustrations  by  H.  T.  Dunn.     $1.00  net. 

The  futher  adventures  of  Mr.  Pringle,  who  proves  deus  ex 
machine  gun  to  the  heroine  and  visits  a  "  Movie  Palace"  near 
the  Mexican  Border. 

"  Not  only  picturesque  but  intensely  amusing. "—New  York  Tribune. 
"  Thrilling  incident  and  humorous  talk."— TV.  Y.  Times. 


HENRY    HOLT    AND    COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW   YORK 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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